


The Kid

by Sharonfofaron



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 31,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharonfofaron/pseuds/Sharonfofaron
Summary: Sammy is a teenage boy living on his own in Madagascar, making a living translating old texts for criminals. At seventeen years old, he's almost an adult--but he's had some bad experiences, being orphaned and fostered among the least of them, and he's really still just a kid at heart. So when a certain Sam Drake comes along--young, dashing, pre-Panama and with a verve for adventure--Sammy thinks he might finally have someone to take care of him. But will he actually be able to let his guard down and let him in?This is not related to my bigger fanfic, The Third Brother, although the names are the same! :) Enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

The palm fronds rustled as Sammy stepped around them, moving briskly and out of habit as he returned from a surfing jaunt, shirtless, exhilarated, and feeling good. He loved surfing; he loved the water. He loved it HERE. All in all, it was a great day so far. 

And about to get better, he thought as he turned into his simple little shack to see three men standing inside. Normally, he'd be a little unhappy to see customers; translating ancient texts for treasure hunters could get hairy if they weren't the nice kind. But at least one of these guys he knew, and that man was already stepping forward with a smile. 

Sammy grinned back, dignifying the other two men with a friendly little head-bop in their direction, already moving to grab the nearest dark green fitted T-shirt and casually throw it on. "Hey, Sully!" he said casually, as if he'd been expecting them. "Back in this part of the world, huh. You got something for me?" He was in his element here, and it showed; nothing about this kid's posture, OBVIOUSLY well-muscled body, or tone belied his age, Sam Drake was thinking. He was also rapidly trying to school his expression, since he could feel his heartbeat still refusing to slow down after seeing the boy's still-glistening abs. And since he could practically feel Nate's warning vibrating next to him. 

"Yes, I do," Sully said in his endearing rumble, and Sammy ran his hands through a nearby hand-towel on his comfortably-cluttered desk, to remove the surfboard wax he'd been using before touching any ancient papers. He looked between the men expectantly, waiting to see what it was, but Sully assumed his look meant he wanted introductions. 

"You've heard me mention Nathan and Sam Drake," he said, gesturing towards them. "Here they are, in all their glory." 

Sammy gave a little laugh, smiling at the two men closer to his age, and uttered such an effortlessly-cool "Hey" that Sam felt like his legs might melt. Fortunately, the boy was quick to bring it back to business, taking the text from Sully, asking a few questions about its context--nothing specific, he'd been quick to clarify, just if it was found on a certain type of stone, or in a temple, et cetera, to help him figure out the most likely interpretation of the text--and then getting right to it. Sully started leading Nathan and Sam down the street to find food, since it would take Sammy a couple hours to complete the translation.

Nate stared at Sully, open-mouthed, when he said that while they were walking down the dirt road. "Wait, he's going to finish it THAT quickly? Just how smart IS this kid?"

"Smart," Sully said proudly, as if it were his own son he were praising. "He's a downright savant when it comes to this kind of thing. I've got no idea how he does it." 

"How old is he, anyway?" Sam asked; he kept his eyes guileless and curious while watching Sullivan's face, but distinctly felt Nate's eyes narrow in his direction. "Well, when I met him and asked him that question, he said he didn't know," Sully responded, still walking. "He's got an orphanage sob story just like you two--but worse. Bad foster homes, abusive people, the works. So no birth certificate that he knows about. But when I met him--," he thought for a minute "I'd put him at about fourteen. So he'd be seventeen now." 

That was good enough for Sam; his eyes, which had darkened to think of Sammy's hard past, brightened a little at the age-related news. Nate deliberately made him hang back when Sully stepped into the restaurant they found first, seeing his big brother's smirk growing and knowing exactly what was on his mind. He pulled Sam's arm to get his attention, and rapped him warningly on the chest. 

"Sam, leave that kid alone!" he hissed. 

Sam held up his hands in mock surrender, looking at his brother innocently. "What? He's hot!" 

Nate groaned and started to go inside, but now it was his turn to be pulled back; Sam held on to his arm for a second, and wiggled his eyebrows. "Come onnnnn, you agree he's hot, right?", his Boston accent coming out smooth and low. 

Nate sighed and rolled his eyes before admitting defeat with a sheepish shrug. "OKAY, yes, he's hot--"

"EXACTLY," Sam said, pointing a finger in triumph even though Nate kept speaking over him. "VERY hot."

Nate was still talking. "But he's not even eighteen yet and he doesn't even know us. Not to MENTION it wouldn't be great to piss someone off who's such a great asset!" Nate winced as he said it, realizing immediately the error in his words. 

Sam pounced. "I'd like to see his ASSet-"

"Goddamnit, Sam, you literally just met him," Nate sighed, nodding his head towards a waiting Sullivan and guiding Sam inside with a chastising look on his face. "Try not to scare the poor kid, okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah." Sam scoffed--but he knew Nate was serious, and he knew that Nate would recognize the statement for what it was: the truth. Sam hadn't forgotten the look in the kid's velvety, long-lashed brown eyes; cheerful, but sad. And he knew immediately that he wanted to make him happy. 

That nice asset definitely wouldn't hurt, either.


	2. Chapter 2

Two hours later, the boys were back--and Sammy was done. Sammy didn't have a super expensive rate--he didn't need much to live on, and he wasn't greedy, plus criminals' version of cheap was actually like $20,000 a translation (which to Sammy was basically a million bucks, so he always felt like he was pranking people when they actually paid that). He took the money, in cash, and gave them what they wanted, plus more. Sammy always went above and beyond when it came to translations, copying everything in English with detailed notes attached, and even copying down any extraneous symbols and adding his own potential analysis into the mix. 

Impressed, Nathan looked up from the text that he was rereading while Sully was paying. "Heh, you went all out! Thank you!" 

Sammy gave a sheepish half-shrug. "Eh, I like doing it. Good luck with the treasure." 

"You ever treasure-hunt yourself?" The older brother asked, and Sammy abruptly remembered that his name was Sam. Funny that he'd forgotten, he mused. Their names were basically identical. 

Sammy looked at him and answered lightly. "The occasional dive on a wreck here, but not really anywhere else. I haven't really even BEEN anywhere else, besides here and Boston." 

"You from Boston?" Sam perked up so obviously that Sammy's smile got bigger--which only compounded the older guy's smile twice over again, until his hazel eyes crinkled a little. Sammy got the feeling that this guy didn't smile, at least like THAT, very often--because the other two men looked thoroughly perplexed, and Sully actually looked a little bit like he was about to laugh. 

"Yeah, Mattapan. You?" 

"Brighton." Sam grinned at him still then, not saying anything more, just grinning, and Sammy started to get a little uncomfortable, shifting his gaze nervously between all three men for a second. Obviously sensing the change, the younger brother slid into the conversation and tried to distract from Sam's Cheshire-cat grin. 

"Well, you picked a good place to live. Madagascar's great," Nathan said, smiling affably--and in a consciously non-threatening way--and he watched as Sammy visibly relaxed, his shoulders lowering like a grudgingly-calmed tiger's. "Lots of lemurs."

"Oh, yeah, I love lemurs," Sammy said happily, straightening from where he'd been bent over the desk's papers and putting his hands in his short pockets contentedly. "We have fifteen different kinds, you know."

"Really?" Nathan asked, interested. "How many have you seen?"

"All of them! There's a few endangered ones that you can only spot at night, but it's worth it." 

"I'll bet," Nate concurred. Seeing that Sam was starting to make that weird smile again, he shifted in place and brusquely tapped his big brother's side. "We better head out, but thank you for your help, Sammy. Take care." 

"Yeah, you too," Sammy said, meaning it. Those boys seemed nice--although the bigger one was a little intense. Sully came forward and wrapped Sammy in a hug, going through with it even though he knew it might throw Sammy off. Sammy wasn't used to people touching him. He let out a little 'huff' of breath when Sully did it, and ended the hug quickly, but he couldn't deny that it felt kind of nice for that split second of warmth. 

"Don't be a stranger, Sammy. And you let me know the second you decide to try a little adventuring." He winked, and Sammy laughed. Sam, who'd been grudgingly being pushed out the makeshift door by Nathan--and had made enough progress to almost be out--stopped and stood stock-still, smirk coming back as he heard the younger boy's laugh. Nate sighed inwardly and shoved him, hard, and he finally went with a grumble. 

But not before Sammy saw him stick his head out over Nathan and attempt what Sammy could only assume was supposed to be a wink. Bemused, he scoffed and went back to clearing off his desk, planning another surf in his head. Strange guy, he thought.

Meanwhile, walking away, Sam alternated between looking back at the shack and whispering to Nathan. "What the hell, Nathan? Let a player play!" 

"You weren't playing ANYTHING, Sam, and you're definitely NOT playing anything with a KID," Nate whispered back, literally still dragging Sam along the path towards town. 

"Victor, what else you got for me on him?" Sam asked, as Sully looked on at the mock-struggle with amusement. "DON'T tell him," Nate said warningly, but with a little laugh in his voice, and all three of them chuckled. But Nate saw the resolve in his brother's eyes, and knew he'd be going back. Sooner or later, but he'd be back.


	3. Chapter 3

Sammy was in the middle of redoing his shack's roof a few weeks later--there had been a storm, too small to level the place but large enough to knock a few pieces down--when he heard a caustic Boston accent sound from just below him. 

"You know, you can pay people to do that." 

Sammy looked down and almost fell off his ladder; he hadn't expected anyone to be here, and the guy was actually ON the ladder. Down near the bottom, but basically right behind and below him. How he hadn't noticed the Drake brother's arrival, he didn't know--which he found disturbing. 

Sam had been there for a full two minutes, staring at Sammy's ass. And what an ass it was....

But the urge to stare was shortly overwhelmed by the urge to TALK to him, so he spoke up. And now this adorable kid was looking down at him with consternation in those same velvety-brown doe eyes that he remembered from last time. 

"Oh! Hey." Sammy turned on the ladder, his dexterity obvious in the movement, and Sam's grin widened below him. "You guys back already? Need something else?"

Yes, Sam thought, YOU. But he held it in. Partly because Nathan had made him promise not to scare the kid. That promise was literally the only reason Nathan had agreed to let him go alone instead of tagging along to deliver the message. 

"Nope." Sam backed down off the ladder, and Sammy met him down on the ground with a cute little hop, recovering quickly from the jolt of surprise. "We're heading out, actually. I just had a message from Sully for you." 

"So the treasure hunt went all right?" 

Sam grinned and huffed with an excited laugh. "BETTER than all right. We found Libertalia." 

It was a credit to his own self-developed education that Sammy's eyes widened in recognition--and Sam's grin widened simultaneously, pleased that'd he made the kid's expression change so much. He was beginning to like this gradual-courtship thing. 

"Libertalia?"

"Ah, you know it." 

"Yeah." The 'duh' was implicit in Sammy's voice. "That's huge! Congratulations." 

"Hey, all in a day's work," Sam said dismissively, as if this WASN'T part of his life dream. "But hey--" he knocked Sammy's shoulder gently with the back of his hand in a friendly little touch "You ever wanna come see it, you give us a call. It's an island not far from here." 

"Really?" Sammy raised an eyebrow, and Sam nearly kissed him then and there. He was always a sucker for the eyebrow raise. 

"Really." 

"Thanks." Sammy grinned, hands in his pockets. "So what'd Sully want?"

"Oh, right." Sam shuffled in his own pockets for a sec before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. "We're headed to this big party soon, in Italy. Sully thought you might wanna come--well," he corrected himself sardonically, and Sammy watched him, eyes amused as he took the written address "he said you probably WOULDN'T come, but you should because you might like it. It's fancy--like, really fancy. An auction."

"Aaaand I take it you guys aren't exactly leaving on good terms." Sammy raised an eyebrow again, his mouth quirking a little in his shy version of a smirk, and Sam tried to cover his barefaced lust by putting a hand to his chest and exaggerating his voice. "How dare you suggest such a thing! That's a low blow. We're just going to be, ah, borrowing certain items, of little to large intrinsic value." 

"Mm." Sammy nodded, pretending to take it seriously, and Sam grinned down at him. "Well, thanks anyway." Sammy moved into the shack to put the note in the journal on his desk, and Sam followed him in. "What, you're not gonna go?" 

Sammy shrugged. "Not my thing."

"Not your thing." Sam looked at him skeptically, watching as Sammy sat down and started wiping the dirt and debris off his hands. 

There was a pause. 

"And what IS your thing?" 

Sammy looked up from under his eyelashes, making Sam Drake's heart genuinely skip a beat, and smirked and nodded towards the ocean only yards away. "The water." 

Trying to steady his heart rate, Sam leaned against the wall. "You really like it, huh."

Sammy nodded, looking down at the ground for a second. "Yeah," he said quietly, thoughtfully, and Sam had the urge to go sit next to him. 

He was denied it, though, because the next voice he heard was his brother's--normally a very welcome voice, but so so very unwelcome at the time--saying "Sam? You here? We gotta go."

Nathan popped his head in. "Hey, Sammy," he said lightly, trying to ignore his big brother's glare "How you doin'?" 

"Good." Sammy gave him a smile and a little nod in greeting. "Congrats on Libertalia. That's awesome." 

"Thanks." Nate beamed; he might not be smitten, but he really did like this kid. "Come on, Sam," he rapped the older Drake's arm firmly. "Plane's waiting. Sully might leave even if we're not on it." 

Sam scoffed bitterly, but turned to head out anyway. He stopped before the doorway, pointing a finger at Sammy with an expression that alternated between soft and tender and firm and serious. It was disorienting to see, especially since it was only seconds long. "You change your mind, you call us, all right?" 

Sammy looked at him, keeping his expression inscrutable, and nodded. Sam smiled thoughtfully, unable to interpret the look, but was yanked comically out of sight by his younger brother. Sammy could still hear the yelps of protest as they went, and laughed a little to himself.

Maybe he should go, he thought. He'd never been to Italy.


	4. Chapter 4

Things didn't exactly go well in Italy at that fancy auction--and, Sam mused, it was a good thing his new crush hadn't come along. Long story short, they'd ended up in a Panamanian prison for a few days--with an escape plan imminent--and all of these sexually-repressed men were so brimming with testosterone, Sam was sure they'd have been on the good-looking kid in a heartbeat. 

He smoked his cigarette thoughtfully, watching Nathan charm one of the guards nearby, when he heard a voice nearby. It was a man he recognized as Hector Alcazar, someone he'd only just met today but who was infamous in Panama for his brutality. Hector was disturbingly friendly. 

"Ah, Samuel, and how is the day treating you here in Panama?"

"It's a little warm for my taste," Sam ventured, pleased to see that Hector seemed to be accepting the joke "You got any way to turn up the air conditioning or somethin'?" 

Hector laughed, and Sam saw Nate start keeping tabs on them nervously in his peripheral vision. "Sorry, Samuel. Just sunshine and sweat for us today. You know," he segued carefully, eyes narrowing "There are several of my men in here who would like you, Samuel. That is not my particular taste while imprisoned, but if you want men, I have men. Prison can be a lonely experience." 

Sam thought it would be in bad taste to tell Hector that he was literally going to be getting out today, so he didn't. Some of Hector's men WERE hot, and he'd seen them eyeing him. It would be easy to have a little free fun before leaving. 

But he shook his head immediately, not a doubt in his mind, and the response came naturally, before he even had time to analyze it: 

"Sorry. I've got somebody waitin' for me on the outside." 

"Ah. A man?"

Sam considered lying, but the sound of Sullivan's plane overhead was enough security for him to feel reckless. "Naw," he said, with a smile, "A boy." 

Alcazar's brow uncreased, and he winked. "AHHHHHHH. Then," he grinned and stepped away as the plane landed, gunfire about to begin "enjoy. Boys are fun. " 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sammy was shirtless (like he was most of the time) on his little beach, waxing his board and trying to focus his mind on a nearby bird call, when he heard a branch crack behind him. Sam had done it on purpose, in an effort not to scare him, and 'lumbered' his way down to the sand as Sammy turned around, surprised rather than scared. 

"Oh," Sammy said, eyebrows raised, genuinely thrown by the appearance. Hadn't he just seen this guy like three weeks ago? "Don't tell me there's more 17th-century pirate treasure to find?" 

Sam chuckled and sat down on a log near him. "Nah. Actually, this is a social call. Hey," he said pulling out a cigarette--since it was literally the only thing he could think of to do with his hands that didn't involve clutching Sammy's lithe waist or thumbing his hips--"Way to be a no-show at the auction."

"Sorry." Sammy shrugged. "Like I said, not my thing." He'd actually almost gone; but a client had shown up unexpectedly, with several pages of text, and Sammy's ambition was gone by the time it was over. "Did you manage to steal things?"

"Whoa! Heyyy," Sam said dramatically, making the younger guy grin "BORROWED. BORROWED things. And yes, we did--but no we did not get away with it. Only just got out of prison. So maybe it's a good thing you didn't come along. Prison wouldn't agree with you, Sammy. You don't have the cheekbones for concrete cells."

He hadn't quite meant to say that out loud, but out it came, and luckily Sammy gave a self-deprecating little "heh" hum of a laugh before going back to his board. 

"What're you doing, anyway?"

"Waxing my board."

"I'd like to wax YOUR board," Sam almost said, just barely catching himself. It was too tempting, so he shoved his cigarette back in his mouth to try to tamp it down. Don't scare him, Nate had said. Sammy glanced at him, and he feared he'd said it out loud, but a moment's interpretation revealed that it was the cigarette that had captured his attention. 

"You want one?" he asked. Sammy shook his head. "No, thanks." Sam sensed none of the judgment or criticism that he usually received in Sammy's voice; instead, Sammy had just spoken as if he'd been offered a lollipop or a cookie. 

"You usually smoke? I can go somewhere else if it bothers you." Sam wanted to smack himself for saying that. If Sammy took him up on that, he'd have to leave, and he was nowhere near done talking to the kid. Nor was he done watching the kid's arm and back muscles flex as he worked. 

"Nah. I don't, but it doesn't bother me," Sammy said cheerily, looking at his board as he waxed, and Sam sensed that he was being honest. He wanted those soft brown eyes to look at HIM, though. What he wouldn't give to see those lashes flutter in his direction.

Sam took another drag on his cigarette, and Sammy spoke up. "I don't really have any food, but if you want fruit there's some up on the table." He nodded towards the shack, and Sam laughed. "I'm good, Sammy." He was glad his mother never called him that as a pet name, because it didn't feel too weird to say it now. "But what, you don't have ANY food? When do you eat?"

Sammy shrugged. "I don't eat that often." It was true; he had so many other things that he liked doing more, like swimming and surfing and reading and learning new languages and staying up all night to see lemurs and starlight. 

Sam looked at him in consternation, eyebrows going up slowly. "You don't eat that often?" He abruptly reached out a hand and touched Sammy's exposed side-abs with it, delicately and just for a moment--but it was a solid and official moment of touching, not just a millisecond, as if his fingers were fondling and carefully considering the ridges of muscle and skin. He kept talking casually over it, though, pushing past Sammy's reaction. "No wonder you're so skinny. You're skinny like this all the time?"

Sammy looked at him, visibly unnerved by the contact. No one had ever palmed his sensitive torso before, not ever. His stomach had automatically drawn in at the touch, and he felt weird now, like all of his nerves were on a live wire. Tense, and buzzy. Did he mention tense?

Gauging his reaction, while casually turning the conversation to some funny story about Nate not eating his vegetables as a kid, Sam surmised that Sammy was still going to need some warming-up. Good, he thought, barely holding in his devilishly devious grin at the idea. He could really get into this whole gradual-seduction thing.


	5. Chapter 5

"So, where're you guys goin' next?" Sammy asked a few minutes later, having finished up his board-wax and standing for a second to stand the board up off to the side. Sam's breath caught at that, seeing the younger guy's muscles move as he straightened and how easily he hefted the board. The boy had real presence, and literally moved like a cat. Or a supermodel. He hadn't decided which.

Realizing he'd forgotten to answer, Sam quickly shoved his cigarette back in his mouth and pretended to just be finishing a drag as Sammy turned around, hoping that would count as an excuse for the delay. Definitely NOT the fact that the boy had simply MOVED, and that had been enough for Sam's breath to stop. 

It almost was; Sammy detected a little bit of the delay, and thought it was for a different reason. "Sorry," he held up his hands in mock surrender for a second, with a small laugh, before moving over to the shack and pulling out the bowl of fruit, "Not supposed to ask." 

Sam laughed. "Ehh, it's not really a secret or anything. Actually, with Libertalia being all wrapped up here, all I guess I really gotta do right now is sit around and enjoy my newfound wealth." 

Sammy whistled low. "Hell of a find." He sat back down easily, on a log next to Sam's--but not, Sam noticed glumly, on HIS log--and started eating some grapes cheerily. He looked up after a second, seeing that Sam was staring at him with a bemused look on his face, and said "What?"

The way this boy looks up from under his lashes is gonna kill me one day, Sam thought to himself. Out loud, he just laughed. "I just can't believe you only eat FRUIT," he said, raising an eyebrow. 

Sammy scoffed, turning back to his snack. "I don't only eat fruit," he responded casually, with a small smile to let Sam know he wasn't offended or anything "I go get barbecue up at the restaurants down the street." He nodded towards the town up the hill behind them. 

Sam's expression got a little more cat-like. "Really. You'll have to show me around sometime. I could use some good barbecue right about now." 

Sammy looked at him, confused. "Haven't you guys been here for a while now? What have you been EATING?" 

Sam was caught out; he HAD been having the barbecue here, and had only been pretending not to in order to get a date out of it. He'd thought he had an in; but clearly this kid was too perceptive for that. 

Recovering quickly, he took another drag on his cigarette and shrugged, throwing Sammy his best innocent smile. "Eh, Nathan and Sullivan are more into the rice-and-beans kind of fare, if you can believe that." 

Sammy scoffed. "Really?"

"Really."

Sammy let out a little 'hm' of surprise, and reached for a blueberry. Seeing another opportunity, Sam suddenly leaned forward, gesturing in a 'come hither' motion with his free hand. "You know what, I think I will have some of that." 

Sammy extended the bowl affably, reaching in for another blueberry, and Sam's plan worked perfectly. While reaching for his own 'blueberry', he was able to fake-kind-of-sort-of-accidentally-but-not touch Sammy's fingers. Sammy moved his hand away quickly, having gotten a couple berries, but the temporary touch was good enough for Sam's hand to tingle. Jesus Christ, he thought. If that's just what his HAND feels like...

"So," he said between berries in his mouth "How'd you meet Sullivan, anyway?" 

Sammy took note of the way the man said Sully's more formal name, and tucked it away for future reference. Sam didn't know what the boy across from him was thinking, but sensed that he'd absorbed some kind of observation through those velvet-brown eyes. 

The moment was over, and Sammy started eating again. "Eh, work I think. It was a few years ago. He needed something translated, and I could do it. I've only seen him a few times since then. Although he did come and stay in Madagascar once for Christmas. Said he preferred palm trees to pine ones." 

Sam realized immediately why Sullivan had been here for Christmas, and felt a twinge of regret about his hostility. Sully had been here because SAMMY had been here, alone, for the holidays. He'd been here just for the kid, to keep him company. And no doubt had made Sammy feel like it was just a happy coincidence. 

Sam's phone rang then; speak of the Devil, he grumbled. It wasn't until he heard Sammy's twinkly little laugh that he realized he'd said it out loud. 

Minutes later, walking down the path back to town, Sam muttered into the phone. 

"Victor, you son of a bitch, you've got to be the worst cock-blocker I've ever met." 

"What, worse than Nathan?" Sully asked over the phone cheekily. Sam rolled his eyes. "Today, yes."


	6. Chapter 6

The fist slammed into Sammy's cheek, making him stumble and stagger sideways for a second before regrouping and rebalancing his feet, re-raising his fists. It was a sunny, pleasant day, but all he could see and hear and taste was the dust of the street and the yells of the men around him and the panting of his opponent. Shifting his weight, he prepared for another attack. 

It had been a couple months since they'd last been in Madagascar, and they (much to Sam Drake's pleasant surprise) found that they needed a translator again for a new job. Early 'retirement' hadn't agreed with any of them, not even Sully--and Nathan could blatantly see how much Sam was missing the newfound kid, even if no one else did. He'd get quiet sometimes, and he was smoking a lot more--and working out a lot more, partly to relieve tension and partly from a desire to make himself (he hoped) sexier for the young man. He also wasn't flirting, with ANYBODY, which was completely out of character for Sam. Nathan was impressed. The kid had already made an incredible impression. So, he did a little bit of little-brother-white-lying and pretended he couldn't quite understand this newest ancient text--even though he could--and said, trying to keep his face and voice neutral, "Looks like we're goin' back to King's Bay again." 

Sully gave him a look, but wisely chose to be quiet; Sam, who was sitting on the bed behind them smoking, immediately perked up and said "Really?"--then immediately tried to lower himself back down a little in his seat, in a failed attempt to be less obvious. Nathan and Sully both mercifully pretended to ignore it, and went about their packing as usual--but not without meeting their eyes once in a while and having a silent laugh over Sam's eagerness. 

Now, they were headed through the streets towards Sammy's shack again, when they heard yelling. A boy nearby was gesturing to another further down the street, saying "Come on!" in broken English. 

"What for?"

"Fight! There's a fight!"

"I'm busy!" the other boy replied, as the Drakes and Sullivan started moving past them. 

"It's the AMERICAN!" The first boy yelled back, and all three men's heads jerked to see the second boy immediately come running up to join him, as well as a few others who had overheard. Sam already started following them, face darkening with straight-up worry, and Nathan and Sully immediately followed HIM.

Further down the street, there was a fairly sizeable crowd forming, all of boys and men, all yelling and cheering at something in the middle. Sam pushed his way through, quickly; he saw another man they knew, Jameson, there--they'd bonded at his barbecue restaurant during their Libertalia job--but immediately saw someone else, too. 

It was Sammy, fighting in the 'ring'. He was shirtless, and so was the other guy, both of their bodies covered in dirt and dust and grime. A hit landed on Sammy's face, and Sam thundered forward, with Nathan and Sully close enough behind him--and in the pressure of the crowd, pressed up right against him along with everybody else. But Jameson--who didn't know about Sam's affections, but was smart enough to recognize that Sam's face looked like someone was gonna get punched--firmly put a hand on Sam's chest, intercepting him, and yelled. "HE'S PAID! Sam, he's FINE!" 

Sam was still staring at Sammy, his entire body taut with tension and his jaw grim, when he understood Jameson's words. He glanced down at him, confused, then back up at Sammy, his look getting more worried and less angry now. Their ears having adjusted to the noise, he and Nathan and Sully could hear Jameson more clearly now. "He WINS, Sam," Jameson said with a laugh and a calming--or at least, he hoped it was calming for Sam--smile. "He always wins!" 

And win he did. Sammy rebounded immediately after that hit to his face, lunging forward and launching himself through the air at the similarly-sized man in a series of high-flying, mostly martial-arts-themed, kicks and chops with a few VERY solid punches in there. The opponent didn't know what hit him--and Sammy moved with the fluidity and grace of a capoeira dancer. The fight was literally over within seconds, one fierce right hook knocking the other man to the ground. It was clear from his landing that he'd actually been knocked out--and the crowd erupted into roars of approval. Sammy's chest was heaving, and he flexed and bounced a little as he walked around the ring, collecting his winnings, dusty and panting but with a small, sheepish smile. The other man started moving on the ground, slowly and weakly, and Sam saw Sammy bend over and say something nice to him and hand him some of the money. Judging by the man's own tiny smile, he wasn't holding any grudges--and Sam knew that giving the loser some of the winnings was an uncommonly nice gesture. 

"Damn, the kid can fight. Does he always pay the losers?" Sam heard Sully ask Jameson. Jameson replied over the cacophony. "Yeah, he's a real good sport like that!" 

Sam kept his eyes on Sammy, watching as the boy accepted some pats on the back and greeted some people politely before moving out of the makeshift ring and heading away, presumably towards his beach. Sam followed him, eyes still fixed on the boy, not even checking to see if Sully and Nathan were following him (which they were, after saying goodbye to Jameson). 

Sammy shoved the money into his sweatpants pockets; he preferred to wear sweatpants for fights, because it made it a little harder for the opponent to see what his feet were doing and where his kicks were aiming. He shifted his jaw a little, experimenting to see where the hit had landed, and felt it smarting on the upper right of his cheek. So, right on the cheekbone. Little did Sammy know that this was the perfect place for a bruise to inadvertently make his face look even more attractive. 

He'd just changed into some shorts and was heading out to dive in, when he heard someone coming behind him. Turning, he blinked in surprise; it was Sam Drake.

And Sam Drake didn't look happy. In fact, he looked upset. 

"Oh! Hey, Sam!" Sammy said in a casual, friendly voice. He genuinely WAS pleased to see the older Drake brother; he liked the guy. He was funny. But today, Sam did NOT look amused. 

Abruptly remembering his appearance, Sammy gestured down at himself in apology. "Sorry," he said with a little laugh. "I'm kind of a mess right now." 

"I know," Sam said, his voice smooth and even, "I saw."

Sammy looked at him as he moved towards the water. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah." Sammy dipped into the water quickly, and Sam tried--and failed--to stop staring at him without his shirt. Especially since Sammy immediately came out, ruffling his own buzzed haircut to get the water out in a genuinely adorable gesture, with water still dripping everywhere. Particularly on what was one HELL of a fine chest. Jesus, Sam couldn't help thinking despite his concern, he's even got that V-line leading down from his waist...

Sammy stepped past him to grab a towel, and the closeness jolted Sam back into the present. And he remembered that in the present, he was concerned. Nathan and Sully arrived then, and Sammy gave them both head-nods. "Hey, guys. Got something else for me?" 

"Yes, we do," Sully rumbled with a smile, moving a cigar to his lips and quirking an eyebrow. "That was one hell of a fight, by the way." 

"Oh." Sammy gave an obviously-sheepish laugh, taking the papers from Nathan with a smile. "Thanks."

"You do that often?" Sam asked, and there was something strange in his voice that Sammy didn't recognize. Nathan did, though; he heard it every time Sam was worried about him. He only sounded that way when he was being protective. Instead of being jealous, Nate's heart genuinely warmed at hearing Sam sound that way for someone else. 

Sammy shrugged in response to Sam's question. "Nah, only once in a while. It's an easy way to stay sharp, since not every treasure hunter is as nice as you guys--plus I get PAID for it. Getting paid to practice fighting is fine by me, especially when I'd already be doing it for free. And it's easier to practice with a partner."

The potential innuendo there started taking the edge off of Sam's worry, and they moved off while Sammy started translating. By the time a couple hours had passed, Sam was driving Sully and Nathan crazy; he was so obviously-itching to get to Sammy again that he practically bounced off the hotel walls. When Nathan said "You wanna go get it, Sam?" he was already on his way out the door. 

Nathan and Sully shared a look, unable to stop themselves from smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

"Here you go." Sam gave him the money, and Sammy handed him the neatly-translated text, notes and annotations included. Normally, Sam would be trying to flirt; but he couldn't get the sight of Sammy reeling from a hit out of his mind. The sight of him wincing...

"You sure you're okay?" He gestured at Sammy's face; Sammy, who had already started clearing off his desk, looked up, confused. "Hm? Oh--" he laughed a little "Yeah. I've had worse." 

"Really?" Sammy glanced up, seeing genuine concern and...was that pity?....in Sam's eyes. Quick to minimize the situation, he brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "Oh, yeah, it's fine." 

Sam gave that sigh that people usually do when they're about to leave, but then abruptly stepped closer and held up a hand. "Here, let me see," he said, holding his breath and courageously reaching for Sammy's face, pushing past Sammy's discomfort just like he had when he touched Sammy's abs. Sammy didn't protest, although he did scoff a little as the older guy held his chin gently and turned his face to look at the bruise. He was surprised, however, when Sam's other hand went up and his fingers lightly touched the bruise. It was...tender, and Sammy suddenly really wanted him to stop. 

Fortunately, Sam let go then; Sammy didn't really WANT to hit him, but he might have had to if the strange fondling had kept going any further. "Well, at least that bruise makes you look badass," Sam said. What he had REALLY wanted to say, was "sexy". Because it damn sure did, and the sight was helping ease his vision of the fight. 

Sammy laughed. "Ha. Thanks. Guess that's always a plus, right?" He went back to clearing his desk--but Sam was still standing close, and the night sky meant that the shack was filling with moonlight. It was one of Sammy's favorite times to be here--and little did he know, it made his eyes sparkle. It made Sam's, too, he'd noticed briefly; the guy had nice eyes, hazel ones. Sammy figured he was probably good with the ladies. 

"Hey," Sam said in a soft, serious voice, and Sammy looked back up. "You be careful, all right?" 

Sammy smiled. "Yeah, sure."

Sam's face relaxed a little at seeing the smile, and at getting out some of his concern. Getting far enough that Sammy let him hold him for a second was a big perk of the night, too. "See ya around." 

"See ya." With that, Sam stepped out, but not before lingering to see Sammy in the moonlight one more time, watching his back muscles move as he worked. Sam felt his chest give a little for a second, losing its breath, but then Sammy almost saw him still standing there and the prospect of getting caught, of scaring the kid off, was enough to get him moving up the silvery trail.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not an expert at all, but from what I understand from UrbanDictionary definitions, a "twink" is a young gay guy who has kind of a boyish, innocent, vulnerable thing going on, mixed with the muscle and smooth skin of an athlete. At least, that's the definition for THIS story...hope it makes sense! I only just heard that term on a John Mulaney stand-up haha :) Everybody is also pretty sexually-fluid in this story, which is why even Sullivan is describing Sammy in a more sexual way. Basically, anything goes.

Several weeks later, Chloe, Nadine, Sully, Elena, Sam, and Nathan were all on a boat, headed towards another island treasure hunt--but on this job, they were able to take their own sweet time. No enemies, no gunfire...Sam was finding it very boring. So were the others, although most of them were loath to admit it. The prospect of finding a treasure just wasn't as fun without someone to beat to it. 

Finding a lull in the conversation, Sam headed off to another part of the boat to exercise. Nathan found him a few minutes later, doing push-ups galore; he waited until Sam had finished and stood up before speaking. 

"You know, Sam," he said quietly, with a small smile on his face as his older brother straightened to look at him, panting "You don't have to work out so much." 

Sam held up his hands, his accent rising jokingly. "What, I'm keeping in shape! With all the climbing we do? I've gotta be!" 

Nate laughed and stepped closer. "Yeah, but Sam, come on. We both know that's not the ONLY reason you're doing it. Hey," he stepped even closer and put a hand on Sam's shoulder companionably, continuing despite his brother's defensive eyebrow-raise "That kid's still gonna LIKE you, Sam. If you can get him to roll that way, that is. You're a hot guy, Samuel," he said with a comforting smile. "And you're already in great physical shape. Really! Don't even worry about it. You don't need to. You've got that department locked down." 

Sam, for once, was at a loss for words. He was both impressed and touched that his brother had noticed his behavior, and that he understood the REAL reason behind it. After a moment of silence, Nathan's eyes looking at him without any sign of mockery, he sighed in relief. It felt good to share this with someone. "I just...he's younger than me, Nathan."

"So he's in abnormally good shape for his age." Nathan shrugged. "He's still smaller than you, Sam. He's not gonna out-muscle you or something, if that's what you're worried about. And Sam, you're only TWENTY-FIVE! You are NOT old, not even a little bit." 

"Nathan, that kid could have anybody he wants." Sam's voice was low and serious, his hazel eyes genuinely nervous now. "I mean, I wanna look good for him, but he's still way outta my league, you know? Like WAY out. He could have somebody way better, HIS age. Why's he gonna go for somebody like me, huh?" 

"Uh, because you're the only one steadily TRYING," Nathan joked. Sam rolled his eyes. "Hey, for all I know there could be dozens of guys or girls showing up and hitting on him every day. Who's to say they're not more charismatic than me, huh? Hell, who's to say he's not ALREADY even taken--"

"Sam," Nate grinned genuinely "NOBODY is more charismatic than you. Not even Sully." 

Sam let out a hmph of pleasure. "Really?" 

"Really." Nate winked. "You want this kid, you're gonna get him. Nothing stops Samuel Drake." 

Sam started a slow smirk, one that Nathan distinctly recognized. He hadn't seen it since they'd been hunting for Libertalia. "Damn right I am. Hey," he wrapped Nathan in a hug. "Thanks for the pep talk, little brother. I needed that." 

"Anytime, Sam. Anytime." Nathan hugged him back. As they headed back towards the others, Sam bumped Nathan affectionately. "Hey, am I really that hot?" 

"YES," Nate confirmed, laughing a little. "You're a good-looking guy, big brother. Why do you think the Shoreliners said they hoped we'd show "our pretty faces"?" 

"Ohhh, so you're saying YOU'RE hot, too," Sam smirked again. Nate shrugged. "Uh, YEAH. There's nothing wrong with liking the way you look. You're not the only one who's got that department locked down." 

Sam cracked up at that. "Okayyyy, Nathan, I'll give you that. You're hot too. Yay for us." 

A few minutes later, after they'd rejoined the others, Chloe piped up. "Hey, Sam, what happened back there at that restaurant today? That waitress was totally hitting on you. Blondes not your thing?" 

Sam scoffed and took a swig of his beer, leaning against the boat's railing next to Nathan, who was facing out towards the water. The others were all sitting down in various spots on-deck, and Sully spoke before Sam could respond. 

"Ohhh, Sam's a little too preoccupied with one particular conquest to be going after random waitresses, Chloe," he laughed. Sam tensed as Chloe perked up, and Nadine and Elena's eyes widened a little teasingly. "Really, Sam? Who?"

"He's after this twink in Madagascar. Sexy little thing, too." 

Sam stood up from the railing immediately, eyes darkening as he glared at Sullivan. Sully held up his hands. "Easy, Sam, I'm just stating the obvious. I've known the kid longer than you, and he's a good one. I don't particularly swing that way, but even I can see the appeal. Especially for a guy like you." 

Sam's ire was eased a bit by curiosity. "What d'you mean, 'a guy like me'? And what the hell is a 'twink'?" 

Sully laughed. "Look it up sometime. Can't believe I knew that and you didn't."

Sam touched Nathan's arm to get his attention. "Hey, Nathan, you know what it means?" 

Nathan shook his head, laughing a little at the whole situation. "Nope." 

"Basically a 'twink' is a guy who fits every characteristic that Sammy has," Sully grudgingly gave out. "You know: young, boyish, cute, innocent, sweet, but also well-built and sexy, even though they don't know it. Kind of the whole package--and absolute CATNIP for practically every gay guy on the planet." 

Sam couldn't help the arousal that twirled in his stomach at Sullivan's description. That DID sound good...and that DID sound like Sammy. 

"Awww, his name's Sammy?" Elena asked. "That's so cute! Sam and Sammy!" 

Sam gave her a little smile, relaxing a little since everyone seemed supportive and nobody was really giving him a hard time. "You're right," he even deigned to say, sipping his beer and raising an eyebrow "it IS cute." He liked the way it sounded. 

Elena smiled back affectionately. She'd been Nate's friend more than Sam's, at least up until recently, but Sam was rapidly growing fond of her. They were a good bunch, these friends. Even if he wanted to kill Sullivan--and probably would, if Sullivan even DARED to threaten to hit on Sammy again. 

"Sully, what DO you mean, "a guy like Sam"?" Nadine asked curiously. Sam narrowed his eyes, waiting for the answer--but also still curious. 

"Well, Sam's a little older than Sammy. And confident, strong, funny, talkative--more of a leader. Perfect kind of person to take care of a twink." Sully's phrasing made that arousal come twirling back in Sam's belly again, and he smirked. "I think those are the nicest things you've ever said about me, Victor." Sully laughed and took a drag on his cigar. "You're welcome. Although I should mention, we haven't actually ESTABLISHED if Sammy's gay or not." 

Chloe leaned back, obviously seeing that as bad news, but gamely raised her bottle. "Well, fingers crossed for you, Sam. Maybe he is. Or maybe you can convince him." 

They all drank to that, Sam giving a grateful "Here's hoping" and taking a swig. Jesus CHRIST he hoped he could.


	9. Chapter 9

One week later, the treasure hunt was over--and, huddled around the table belowdecks on the boat, Chloe had an idea. 

"Saammmmm," she said, and Sam groaned. Chloe only did that voice when she was going to be annoying. Or when she was drunk. Nadine had already started laughing; she recognized the voice, too. 

"What, Chloe?" Sam asked, the others casually looking on and eating around them. It was a small boat, so they were pretty cramped. Sam figured if he ever got Sammy onto an adventure with him, a small space like this could seriously work in his favor. 

"IIIIII have an idea," she spouted triumphantly. "We're all done here, and no one has anywhere particular to go for the moment...so let's go see your Sammy!" 

Sam couldn't deny that he REALLY liked hearing the phrase "your Sammy", but sighed. "He's not MY Sammy, Chloe," he said grudgingly, but Nathan caught his eye--and, reminded of the pep talk, Sam smirked gratefully, cockiness restored. "Not YET." 

Chloe waved that idea away with her hand elegantly. "Nonsense. Either way, we can help you figure him out. See how much distance you have left to cover--if he's gay or if this is going to be a from-the-ground-up kind of thing!" 

Sam couldn't deny that THAT sounded pretty fucking appealing. He still hadn't forgotten the slow, rumbling burn of arousal that he'd felt just from touching Sammy's abs for a second. If that was just a taste, then he could really enjoy just that for a good long while. And his sexual experiences had already taught him that patience often made orgasms insanely good. 

"You mean, if Sam'll have to play the long game?" Nadine clarified. Sam was glad he hadn't mentioned his excitement about said 'long game' out loud. 

"Yeah," Chloe said brightly. "Let's go meet him! Suss it all out for you! Not to mention, I want to SEE this sexy little twink that you're thinking so much about." 

"He sounds like a sweetie," Elena said cheerfully, and Sam grinned. "He is." 

"He's a tough little guy, too," Nathan said. "Hell of a fighter. And smart." Sammy was more muscular than most guys his age, and wasn't short, but Nathan knew that emphasizing 'little guy' would help make his brother feel big and strong and confident. Not to mention, he figured it was a sexy concept. 

And it was; Sam's body twinged again pleasantly at the phrasing. Chloe's idea was sounding better by the minute. 

"You guys aren't gonna screw it up or anything, though, are you?"

Chloe's eyes and smile were serious for a second. "Sam, I promise we won't fuck it all up. Don't worry. We wouldn't do that to you." 

"Well--" Sully started, but Elena hit his arm mockingly to shut him up. 

Glancing at Nathan and seeing his supportive smile, Sam grinned. "All right, assholes, let's do this."

The others laughed; Sam only swore at them like that when he was excited. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, Sammy was on his way back through the marketplace, having just surfed at a different beach than his own to mix things up. He was carrying his yellow surfboard over his right shoulder easily, despite its size, and weaving his way through the crowd smoothly and confidently, still shirtless. Some other locals shouted things out to him in Malagasy as he went, and he was quick to respond. Sometimes it felt like he was in a Disney movie or something, he thought affectionately. Everyone was so friendly and nice, and it was such a beautiful place...it almost made him not think about what had happened before. Almost. 

Sam and his friends were 'lounging' on the street near Sammy's place; they'd run into Jameson, and he'd told them Sammy wasn't at home right now, so now they loitered--and brainstormed. Chloe was thinking furiously to try to conceive a foolproof plan for determining Sammy's sexual preferences--an odd task, really, but one that she was comically devoted to--while the others let her think and watched everyone around them. 

"This is a beautiful place," Elena said to Sam. "I can see why Sammy likes it."

"Yeah," Sam said, feeling bolstered by his friends' presence and cruising the crowd constantly in hopes of seeing his target. "He likes the water." 

"Aw." Sam could feel Elena looking at him warmly, and gave her a glance reluctantly; her smile made it clear that she knew just how smitten he was. "I'm excited for you, Sam." 

Sam ran his hand through his hair, and pulled out a cigarette. "Yeah, don't get too excited for me just yet. God knows I'M trying not to," he muttered, lighting it and taking a nervous drag. He'd never felt quite so jittery before. 

"Okay, I've got an idea--" Chloe said, bouncing over. But just then, for that moment that Chloe had made Sam look away from the crowds, Nathan straightened from the stone wall he'd been sitting on. 

"There he is--"

All six heads turned to look. And there was Sammy, strutting through the crowd, shirtless and surfboard-toting and saying something in Malagasy to one of the marketplace vendors. He looked so effortlessly cool that Sam actually heard himself swallow. 

Chloe's mouth fell open. "THAT'S him?"

"Way to GO, Sam!" Nadine murmured, impressed. 

"Holy crap," Elena muttered, and Sully looked at her, amused by the out-of-character language.

"Yeah, he's a cutie," Nathan said, almost proudly. 

"A CUTIE?" Chloe exclaimed. "He's HOT!" 

Sam took another nervous drag on his cigarette, and the absence of his normal catcalls and flirtatious comments was enough for all of them to notice. Except Chloe, who was still too busy gawking. "Damn," Nadine whispered, elbowing Chloe to make her notice her comment, "he's really serious." 

Sensing his brother's nerves, Nathan touched his arm gently. "Sam, maybe you should have a drink or something first--" 

"Nope!" Chloe suddenly headed forward, leaving the others with no choice but to follow. "The plan is in motion!" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sammy was about to round the bend and head down his trail when he heard a chipper Australian accent behind him. "Excuse me!" 

He turned to see six people, three of whom he recognized. "Oh, hey guys! Back again?" he said, his gaze moving affably between all three men. Nate gave a little wave; Sam and Sully both raised their respective smokes. The woman who had spoken, an attractive Indian woman, stepped forward, bouncing where she stood. There were two other women with them as well--but Sammy was too distracted by the one who was quite literally getting in his face. Luckily, she had a smile on, or he would have been nervous. All the same, he felt his head go back a little at the unexpected closeness. Sam saw his discomfort, and wanted to chuckle. Being afraid of Chloe was hard to understand after knowing her. 

"WEEEEEEEE have a job for you," the woman said to Sammy, and he lowered his surfboard to the ground casually, looking between her and the men, his gaze questioning. Sam tried to ignore the way Sammy's arm muscles had flexed--tried and failed. 

Thankfully, Chloe was still talking, so Sammy hadn't noticed the flush that was starting to color the older Drake's cheeks. "We have a meeting with someone, in this club called Chaos," she said quickly, as if Sammy would reject the idea if she gave him time to think about it. "And we need you to get us in." 

The others tried not to look confused--or at least, Nadine and Elena did. Sully, Nathan, and Sam were actually all trying not to grin; they'd figured out what Chloe was up to, having passed Chaos many times on the street during the Libertalia find. It was an exclusive gay club, one that was jam-packed and emanating beat-pumping music 24/7. 

Sammy glanced between all of them, confused by the request but taking it in stride. "I hate to break it to you, but they're not gonna let you in. Sorry," he said politely, with a half-shrug and a rueful little smile. That smile made Sam want to kiss him. 

"AHHH, but they will if you BRING us in!" she said, holding up a finger as she made her point. She reminded Sammy of a quirky professor trying to teach some zany course on club entrances, and he couldn't help raising an eyebrow, bemused. 

Sam didn't know quite what Sammy was thinking about, but he knew things were okay the second he saw that eyebrow raise. It began to raise something below his belt, too--but that was a different problem. 

Sammy was perfectly aware of what Chaos required for entry, since he'd walked by it hundreds of times, but he tried to skate around it. Why the hell were they meeting someone there, anyway? 

"Whyyyy exactly would you need ME to bring you in...?" he asked uncertainly, looking between the group. It was clear from his face that he was genuinely confused. Adorable, Sam thought distantly, even though his attention was fixed on Sammy's reactions. 

"Because!" Chloe said eagerly. "Whether you're gay or not--" she watched his face closely as she said that, trying to analyze, but his expression gave absolutely nothing away and so she moved on quickly "you at least LOOK like the ideal kind of guy that they would want. Even if you're straight, the bouncer will want to cling to the idea that you might switch teams and indulge himself by letting you in. Basically," she said, trying a different and straightforward tactic "we just need a young hot guy to be our ticket." 

Sammy blinked; they thought he was hot? For some reason, the idea made his brain kind of short-circuit. He didn't really look in the mirror much--

"Come on, please? We know it's weird to ask. Will you just try?" Her gaze turned a little more serious. Sammy glanced at the guys again, his face looking reluctant, and sighed with a shrug. "I--okay..."

"GREAT!" She beamed at him. He started moving towards his shack to grab a shirt, but she held up a hand. "Maybe--maybe not a shirt," she said, her voice getting fainter as she saw him look at her. The boy had one hell of a gaze on him, she thought, and his analytical eyes were making her feel like she was in trouble. 

"Sorry, Sammy," Sully said, stepping in as the boy stared at Chloe; he figured his history with Sammy might help their case. "This really is just a one-time favor. We know it's weird." 

Sammy looked at him now, his eyes flickering, before he sighed again and turned to head back down the street. Chloe bounced alongside him, and he looked at her uneasily, clearly unnerved by her bouncy, noisy presence. "You ever been to Chaos before?" 

Sammy shook his head as they walked, hands in his pockets. "Nope."

"Is that club not your thing, or just clubbing in general?" she asked inquisitively, and if he hadn't been focused on navigating through the crowd, he would have seen the sudden narrowing of her eyes as she waited for his response. 

"Clubbing in general," he said, and she groaned internally. That answer was NOT helpful. 

The crowd was too far for the others to hear, but Sam could see from Chloe's face that she wasn't hearing what she wanted. He felt like he couldn't even breathe; if Sammy was a definite no...he didn't know what he'd do. But at the very least, his lungs definitely couldn't handle it. 

"Relax, Sam," he heard Nathan murmur in his ear. All he could do was shove his cigarette back in his mouth and give Nate an absent-minded nod as they walked. 

The large, well-muscled bouncer at the club's entrance was good-looking, in a bodyguard-kind of way--and it was immediately apparent that he not only saw Sammy, but liked what he saw. His bored, faraway expression vanished as his eyes widened and sharpened, and he literally straightened in place and let a small smile start spreading across his face. Watching the man's eyes go over Sammy's body made Sam practically bite down on his cigarette, and it was only Nate's close presence that kept him from hitting him. 

Sammy had seen this guy around town, so he knew him just a little. Bobby, his name was. "Hey, Bobby," Sammy said lightly, heading up the steps towards him. 

'Bobby' grinned appreciatively. 

"Tsara ihany, tonga eto ianao amin'ny farany, moa ve ianao?" (Well, well, finally coming in here, are you?)

The others looked between them, not understanding a word, but Sammy gave Bobby a polite smile. "Afaka ve aho? Ny sakaizako dia maniry ahy." (Can I? My friends want me to.) 

Bobby spoke slowly and seductively. "Sammy, afaka miditra eto ianao raha mbola tianao. Ho any amin'ny helo aho, raha eto ianao dia tokony ho tonga amin'ny fisotroana." (Sammy, you can come in here as long as you like. Hell, if you're in here I might have to come in for a drink.) 

Sammy, unsure how to respond, just kept his polite smile and headed in. The others followed quickly behind him--and Sam was THIS CLOSE to smacking the man as he made an absolute show of turning around to stare at Sammy's ass. Nate grabbed his arm. "DON'T, Sam," he hissed. 

As it turned out, entering a gay club with Sammy was a lot like entering a place with a rock star. Everyone in there was a regular, and had admired Sammy from afar, but he'd deflected their affections constantly. Seeing him, in HERE, was like Christmas for everyone--and they made no secret of it, constantly flocking to him and touching his arms as they spoke in Malagasy flirtingly. Sam dented his palms with the imprints of his fingernails, he was clenching his fists so hard. Seeing other men's hands on his 'twink'...

Sammy, for his part, seemed incredibly uncomfortable. A good sign for Sam's jealousy, Chloe thought, but a bad sign regarding sexual orientation. She really hoped Sam's charm and good looks would be enough. 

"Thank you, Sammy," she rushed forward and rescued him out of yet another tight group of overly-touchy men, even though they'd only been in the club for five minutes. "We're all set now. You can go." 

"YEAH," Sammy said, the 'duh' in his voice obvious, "I'm leaving. Good luck with your meeting." He stepped past the boys and Nadine and Elena, dignifying them with a quick wave before stepping back outside. Sam tried to catch his gaze, and failed. The music's beat was rising, but he felt his heart sink.


	10. Chapter 10

"It's not so bad," Chloe said pityingly, sitting in a booth at the club next to Sam while he was drowning his sorrows. "Maybe he didn't want to be fondled by all those strangers just because you were here, or because he doesn't like being fondled by strangers in general; he might still be gay!"

"That's right," Nadine added; even she felt bad, and she wasn't one for emotional coddling. "And he said he didn't like clubbing, not GAY clubbing."

"I should go see him," Sam said suddenly. "Apologize." 

"Not YET, Sam," Elena said. "We're 'having a meeting', remember? We can't leave just yet."

Sam groaned. "God, you're right. Shit." He ran his hand through his hair and sucked on a cigarette again. A few men had looked over his way, but their group's serious huddle was thankfully a bit of a deterrent. 

Thirty seconds passed before Sam said "Now?". 

The others sighed. "Go," Sully said, smiling, waving Sam off. 

Sam was already on his way out when Nathan caught up and started walking with him, leaving the others behind for now. 

"Sam, don't give up just yet," Nathan said. "Seriously. We tested him, and he's just too self-controlled for that. Just write this off as a failed experiment, and stick with what you were doing."

"What, showing up once in a while and embarrassing myself?" Sam scoffed, but his voice was quieter, and Nate knew he was getting through. 

"You haven't been embarrassing yourself, Sam," he said matter-of-factly, and saw Sam's shoulders lower. "Actually, you've made a lot of headway for such a short time. He's let you touch him, right?" 

Sam looked thoughtful. "Yeah."

"So just keep doing what you're doing," Nate said brightly. He put an arm around Sam bracingly. "Because that's working. Slow and steady, Sam. Slow and steady. And hey, Chloe's plan might not have worked, per se, but it's given you an excuse to visit him today, hasn't it?"

Sam smiled a little and laughed. "Yeah, you're right." He stood at the head of the trail and looked down, then let out a sigh and rubbed his head again before stomping out his cigarette. "Slow and steady, right?"

Nate nodded and gave him a pat to send him on his way. "Slow and steady. You've still got this, Sam. Just slow and steady. It'll be more fun that way." He winked, and Sam laughed despite his slight flush. "Damn right it will. Thanks, little brother." And he headed down. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

Sammy was on his beach, re-roping a fish net expertly as he stood in the shallows. The rhythmic movements of the repetitive activity were calming for him, and he rapidly felt his heart beat slow and his mind start to settle. Being groped by strangers was NOT something he enjoyed. Sammy liked his personal space, and for good reason. But the thoughts of what had happened to him before--

No, he decided, tugging on the fishnet. Not thinking about that. No. 

"Hey, Sammy," someone called in a low voice from the shore. Sammy recognized the voice immediately, and glanced over before going back to his fishnet. "What, your meeting's already over?" 

"Nah, but they didn't need me for it so I came down." There was silence for a moment; Sammy had actually started focusing on the fishnet again, but Sam interpreted it as an unhappy silence. "Look--" he stepped forward "about the whole club thing--"

Sammy looked at him, his brown eyes questioning, and Sam lost his words a little. He waved his hands in the air, searching for the right words, but Sammy was already smiling ruefully and talking again. 

"Eh, just forget it," he said smoothly, going back to the net. "Good luck with whatever that meeting's about." 

"I don't wanna forget it." Sam stepped to the very edge of the water, and Sammy looked up at him, not understanding. Sam hadn't meant to say it with such fervor, and he wanted to backtrack, but Sammy's eyes were so soft and he could see his long eyelashes...

"I'm sorry. I know those guys made you uncomfortable."

Sammy opened his mouth to minimize his discomfort and wave it off, but Sam looked really...earnest, or something. THAT was actually making Sammy even more uncomfortable, he realized--but before he could respond, voices sounded from the trail. The others came down, whisking Sam away with some light-hearted thanks and jokes, and Sammy waved them off on good terms, standing in the water and the shimmery sunlight.

"Sorry, Sam, but Nate told us that it was good to kind of cut these interactions short," Nadine said. Sam nodded, knowing she and Nathan were right--even though what he really wanted to do was lift Sammy up into his arms into the water and have his way with him. Now that he knew Sammy wasn't mad, HE was moving back to being mad--mad at those other men, with their other hands. He'd have to use his own hands to remove the image--and slow and steady did seem best, but he still hoped his chance would come sooner rather than later.


	11. Chapter 11

A couple months later, Sam was smoking like a chimney and snapping at everything and Nathan could barely take it anymore. Sitting in a hotel room, having just completed another small, but simple job, Nathan eyed his brother on the other bed before sitting down on his own to face his sibling and sigh.  
"Sam..."

"What?" Sam was smoking, one hand behind his head, staring at the wall. He hadn't even made the effort to turn on the TV and pretend to watch it. 

"You gotta go back to King's Bay," he breathed out quietly. 

Sam's hand stopped for a second where he was lifting the cigarette to his lips, then slowly started the moving process again. Instead of coming up with a defensive line, he was thinking...and Nathan knew that meant he was serious. 

After a moment of studly squinting, his shoulders collapsed and he sighed, sitting up abruptly and running his spare hand through his hair. "Ah, shit, you're RIGHT," he said, accent low "I'm sorry, Nathan. I guess I've been kind of an ass lately, huh." He looked up at his brother sheepishly, the slight worry in his eyes dissipating when he saw nothing but forgiveness and humor in his brother's. 

"Yeah," Nate laughed, "you have. But it's okay. I get it. Sully gets it too." Sully was currently outside with a cigar and a Scotch, enjoying the breeze.

Sam absorbed that knowledge thoughtfully for a second before his face grew upset again. "Shit, Nathan, I really like this guy," he murmured, looking at the carpet and moving to sit and face his brother directly. "I mean, this is bad, right? This is bad."

Nathan looked at him, confused, and Sam began talking with his hands rapidly. "Nathan, I can't even be away from this kid for a couple months without taking it out on you guys."

"Soooo we just make sure you're never away from him that long," Nathan said brightly, his matter-of-fact behavior already starting to calm Sam down. "It's not bad to like someone this much, Sam. It's GOOD."

"Yeah, good if you're sure the guy's gonna play on your TEAM," Sam muttered, taking another drag. 

"Look, we're just about done with the job here. And Rafe just texted me earlier, asking if I knew any translators for something. Why don't you use it as an excuse? Bring him down to Madagascar, introduce him to Sammy. Then just...you know, stick around for a while. Keep going with the slow and steady." He shrugged mischievously.

Sam's smile had been growing the entire time, and it was now an official smirk. "All right," he said, more to himself in excitement "All right." He stood up and stretched, bouncing on his feet a little. "Whew, it's good that he asked you when he did. Sully's probably about ready to kill me." 

"Yeah," Nate laughed. "He is. But hey, you heard him. Sammy's a sexy little thing." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a couple days later, Sammy was on his way back to his shack, shirtless and shining and post-surf, when he heard voices inside and slowed his gait to listen. Men, one voice a quiet murmur that he didn't recognize and the other one...

Realizing who it was, he allowed his pace to pick up again and felt himself relax a little more. Ducking his head through the doorway and stepping inside briskly, he looked up and smiled at the face he knew. 

"Hey, Sam!" he said cheerily, stacking his board against the wall. "Hey!" Sam said, trying to rein his excitement in in front of Rafe--but a glance at the other man revealed that Rafe was actually posing a problem on his own. 

His eyes widened as Sammy came in, and he blatantly gave him a slow look up and down with a catlike smirk growing. Sam immediately realized his error; he'd been so busy wondering if Sammy played on his team, he hadn't noticed that Rafe DEFINITELY did. How could he have MISSED it, he thought to himself frantically. And Rafe was hot, and rich...

Feeling his chest tighten, he stepped closer to Sammy in a conscious move to keep the focus on him and hopefully not Rafe's pervy, awestruck gaze. It was a desperately futile move, and already too late: taking initiative and striving for what he wanted was, unfortunately, Rafe's forte. He tended to be almost ridiculously courageous when it came to taking the best toys in the sandbox, so he recovered from Sammy's good looks much faster than Sam had, and stepped forward, blatantly flexing his pecs and holding out his hand. 

"Rafe Adler, from Adler Industries. Sam here tells me you've got a knack for translations." 

Sammy looked at him, his smile polite and his eyes appraising as he looked between the two men and shook Rafe's hand. The man was only an inch taller than him, but he was muscular, and his grip was firm and warm. Sammy moved to pull his hand away after the standard momentary handshake, but the other man's grip lingered for a second, fingers trailing over his palm as it left, and somehow felt...intimate. 

Rafe knew the boy had picked up on the sensation, and gave himself an internal pat on the back. Conveying sexual desire through minute gestures was one of his specialties, and he knew he'd just turned a simple greeting into an "I want you, bent over, in my bed, NOW."

Sammy did not have much dating or sexual experience, but he--like any person--could sense when someone was deliberately giving off such intentional and below-the-belt vibes. He wasn't stupid--although right now he kind of wished he was. The man's eyes clearly said that he'd seen Sammy's absorption of the message, and his smirk got a little bigger. 

"I've got a document for you. Etruscan, fifteenth century. Sam here has ALSO told me you can work fast." He quirked an eyebrow, and Sammy looked between the two, his gaze now very carefully neutral. 

Sam's jealous tension was eclipsed as he noticed that expression change; he wasn't able to see Rafe's face during the handshake, but he knew that SOMETHING had happened, because there was most definitely something making Sammy nervous. 

Rafe apparently took the boy's expression as a good sign, of sorts, and handed him the text. Sammy looked at it, relieved to have something else to focus on, and nodded. "Give me an hour." 

Rafe let out a little hum of a noise. "I see he wasn't wrong. We'll be back." He gave Sammy a confident look as he backed away, keeping his eyes on the boy for as long as possible; Sammy was already sitting down and pulling out his papers, getting ready to work and counting the seconds until the other guy would leave.

Sam lingered; he knew Sammy was nervous, and wanted to offer comfort, but didn't quite know what to say. "Everything all right?" he asked after a moment, posture tense but questioning. 

Sammy looked up at him, keeping that neutral expression flawlessly, and said "Yeah" in a light, but still unreadable voice. 

"Is it...okay that I recommended you for somebody?" Sam asked tentatively, hands circling in the air vaguely as he spoke. His worried eyes stayed on Sammy's--but Sammy's stayed brown, open, vulnerable, and COMPLETELY inscrutable. Perfect friendly, but remote. There was a distance in them now, and it was freaking Sam out. 

"Yeah," Sammy said in that same voice, adding a tiny half-smile before looking back to his papers, "Thanks." 

"Okay." Sam's response was quiet and unsure. As soon as he was out of hearing, and had hustled Rafe into a nearby bar, he moved outside again and called Nate. 

"Hey, Sam!" Nate sounded perky and bright on the phone. "How'd it go?" 

"Fuck, Nate, I'm pretty sure I screwed up," Sam muttered, letting his anxiety show in his voice and pacing. 

"Okay," Nate was quick to respond calmly, hearing Sam's stress. "What happened?"

"What HAPPENED is that Rafe is GAY, and he freaked Sammy out. Nathan, Sammy's really nervous--"

"SHIT." Nathan didn't know Rafe very well, either, so this was a surprise to him too. "He hit on him?"

"I don't know, he didn't really SAY anything--but basically...yeah," Sam muttered as he nervously lit a cigarette. "It basically oozed out of him. Scared poor Sammy half to death. I mean, I can't tell if he's MAD or not, but he's definitely not happy."

Nathan was thinking on the other end, but that was taking too long for Sam.

"What the fuck do I do, Nathan...?" he asked, voice getting even more anxious.

"Okay." Nathan's voice got brusque and business-like. "Leave him alone to do his work. But DON'T leave him alone with Rafe. What deadline did he give you?"

"One hour."

"All right, I'll call Rafe then; an hour's enough time for me to come up with some bullshit excuse why he's gotta leave. Maybe I'll get Nadine in on it or something, pretend there's a problem with Shoreline. But that guarantees that he won't try to stay. Sam," Nate spoke slowly and clearly, emphasizing his words "all that matters is that you're the LAST person he talks to. Just apologize, say you know Rafe's an ass or a creep or whatever...that's all you'll have to do. Then maybe...I don't know, make him laugh or somethin'. Just be the one who shows up and makes him feel better. Safer." 

Sam took a bracing breath. "Right. Right. Okay, I can do that. Thanks, little brother." 

He hung up--and promptly started counting the seconds in his head. An hour from now couldn't come soon enough.


	12. Chapter 12

"Sam," Rafe was saying in the bar while Sam clenched his glass tightly "I've gotta thank you. Not ONLY have you found me a top-notch translator with one hell of a turnaround time, but you've also found me my next great lay." 

Sam's eyes widened as he looked at him; Rafe, not knowing about Sam's already-ongoing-courtship with the kid, misinterpreted the reaction for general surprise. "Come on, Sam," he laughed, taking a drink. "You can't deny that kid's just about the sexiest thing this planet's ever seen. And believe me, I've seen some lookers. I've FUCKED some lookers. But that..." he shook his head slowly and appreciatively "THAT is one fine boy. And I'm gonna have a reallll sweet time breaking him in." 

Sam's glass felt like it was going to break between his fingers. Fortunately, Rafe was too busy talking to himself to notice. "And did you see the nervous way he looked at me? God, nothing sexier than a kid who thinks he doesn't want it." 

In an effort to stop Rafe's plans--even though his last sentence was undeniably true--Sam said the sentence that he himself dreaded. "What if he's straight, Rafe?" His voice sounded husky and hard. 

Rafe just shrugged it off. "Doesn't matter. A tongue is a tongue. I'll have a fanTASTic time licking my way through that lollipop. Besides, the pursuit'll make it all the sweeter. And he knew what I wanted. That boy's not stupid." Rafe's voice lowered seductively, while Sam's hackles raised. That was HIS lollipop. 

Fortunately, their food came then before Sam could slam his glass into Rafe's hand. Hands that wanted to touch HIS Sammy. 

When the hour was over, Rafe's phone did indeed ring as they were walking back towards the shack; however, instead of dropping everything for the emergency, Rafe smirked. "Think I'll pay a visit to the newfound twink before I go." 

"I can pick up the translation for you," Sam said quickly, but Rafe was already passing him. "What, and give him a chance to forget me? Psh," Rafe scoffed "Not a chance." 

"All right." That did it for Sam; his face darkened, and he stepped in front of Rafe on the trail, directly blocking his path and visibly puffing his chest. "See, that twink's not so newFOUND for me, Rafe. I want him. And I'm gonna get him, too," he said, eyebrow raising threateningly "so backing off'd be the wise thing to do."

Instead of looking scared, Rafe just laughed. "I wondered why you looked like you were having a vasectomy that whole lunch. Sam," he rose to meet him, making his body bigger even though he couldn't make up for the large difference in height "Do you REALLY think that a kid like that is gonna go for a chain-smoking thief when he could go for a rich, powerful man with a private plane? Hm?" 

The logic of that statement made Sam's jaw clench. Rafe poked him in the chest. "What d'you have that he could POSSIBLY want?" 

Sam looked away for a second, resisting the urge to hit him; his eyes became grim as he looked back at Rafe with a smirk. 

"Free time. I got nowhere to be, Rafe," he stepped closer, centimeters from Rafe's face, towering over him, and Rafe scowled "and that's ALLLL time I'll be spending right here. So what I DO have is the ability and the means to LITERALLY KICK." He poked Rafe back with each word "YOUR. ASS. if you even TRY to come near 'im. You got that?"

Rafe finally seemed to understand that Sam meant business, and held his tongue. With a glower, he backed up. "Fine, Sam." He shoved the money into Sam's palm. "For now."

Two minutes later, Sam was stepping into the shack tentatively again. Sammy was leaning against his desk, slicing an apple skillfully and eating the slices straight off the knife. 

Sammy couldn't deny that he'd chosen that particular snack because he'd be able to hold a knife in his hand while they were meeting--and he couldn't deny the relieved surprise that colored his eyes for a second when he saw it was just Sam. Sam picked up on it immediately, and smiled a little bigger. 

"Just me. You got it?"

Sammy nodded, finishing a bite of apple, and swiveled to take the papers off the desk and hand them back around. Etruscan was particularly easy for him. 

Sam stepped closer to take them.

"You working on the job, too?" Sammy asked, voice still neutral. 

Sam laughed a little. "No. Listen," he stepped even closer, voice getting quieter and lower "I know you don't like him. He's an ass, and an egomaniac, but he always pays well. I won't bring him around again. Sorry."

Sammy's eyes were inscrutable again, and he just gave a little nod before going back to his apple. 

Sam's heart was sinking, but then Sammy quietly muttered "Thanks", and he saw an opening again. 

Giving Sammy his best rogueish grin and raising his volume to a more normal, sardonic Boston level, he moved closer with some big hand gestures. "Can I buy you a drink or somethin' to make up for it?" 

Sammy's eyes went to his, and he let out a laugh. Little, but genuine, and both smiles grew. "Nah, thanks though." 

"Ohh let me guess," Sam teased, leaning against the wall, "Drinking's not one of your things either."

Sammy laughed again, and Sam felt his heart jolt at the sound. 

"Yep." It sounded rueful. 

Sam raised an eyebrow. "No drinking, no smoking, no clubbing...maybe I should take up surfing too, if it's good enough to replace all that."

Sammy grinned and hopped off the desk, a spring back in his step. He had a shirt on now, Sam had noticed grudgingly.

"Hey, I'm always around if you need a lesson. I like teaching people," Sammy said brightly. 

Sam raised an eyebrow again. "How many people have you taught?" His real question: Have any other men gotten to be shirtless with you in the water? 

"A couple dozen. Mostly kids. The others were a couple tourists when I wanted some extra cash." 

"That probably beats getting your face smashed in," Sam couldn't help saying. He didn't like Sammy fighting. 

Sammy laughed it off. "Yeah, s'pose so." 

"Tell you what," Sam said after a moment, watching Sammy throw his apple core outside and set the knife on a simple little plate. "How 'bout we make a day of it tomorrow. I'll take you out, show you Libertalia, and you can teach me how to surf. Deal?" 

Sammy grinned, a happy little-boy kind of grin, and Sam was reminded just how young this kid was. Perhaps it should have been a turnoff; but for Sam it was very much a turn ON. 

"Sure!" 

Sam couldn't help his own boyish grin, and only managed to hold a fist pump in until he got to the trail. "Holy SHIT Nathan," he breathed into the phone just moments later. " I got a date!!"


	13. Chapter 13

The next day, near the sandbars of Libertalia's island, Sammy hopped down from the boat into the ocean and let the water swirl around his hips. He never got tired of that feeling; ever, and Sam saw the boy's eyes flicker and change, becoming more calm and settled and somehow...STRONGER, just from the sea's contact. It was just about the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. 

That is, until he looked at Sammy's body again, and watched the waves stream down the V-shaped section of his lower abs leading down below his shorts. Watching water pool off of Sammy's body as he rose out of the water was making him forget all of his witticisms, and he was actually just staring for a second before looking away.

His self-control had been just a little too weak this time; Sammy looked back before he could look away, and let out a little laugh. "What?"

Sam swallowed, hiding his gulp with a hopefully-not-too-creepy grin. "Nothin'. Just--for a kid your age, you're pretty ripped, you know that?" 

Sammy looked away bashfully and laughed, heading further into the shallows. Seeing that his response was a relaxed one, Sam smiled more and joined him in the water, peeling off his own shirt casually. He'd worked out extra last night, partly to relieve the sexual tension that he could feel just sitting in his core, and partly to make his muscles look more defined for his target. 

Sammy gave a little scoff. "Pff, thought you said I was too skinny." 

"I didn't mean too skinny, I meant-like, toned," Sam said, fumbling for his words and waving his hands in the air vaguely "you know? All muscle, no body fat." 

"Aha." Sammy nodded in mock understanding, focusing on the water again good-naturedly. Sam watched him, eyes narrowed mischievously. He couldn't believe he was in the water with this kid. Let Rafe see THIS. 

"Really, how often you work out, huh?" He asked, hearing the caustic sound of his own Boston accent coming through strong. He figured since Sammy was from Boston, too, he wouldn't mind it; hell, in his own little delusional fantasy, he figured Sammy LIKED it. Little did he know, Sammy did. It reminded him of home. 

"Six hours? Three?" 

Sammy laughed again, running his hands through the water around him as if he was just getting to know the ocean once more after a long time away. "No, let me guess," Sam held up a hand jokingly "You spend all your time LITERALLY doing sit-ups and only just stop right before we walk in every time."

That made Sammy laugh more, the laugh coming out louder across the water to where Sam waded a few yards away, and Sam didn't think his grin could get any bigger. 

"Nah," Sammy said, stepping forward some more, savoring the sand between his toes "I mean, with surfing, and climbing, and fighting a lot every day, I guess I just--" 

"Wha-climbing? Did you say CLIMBING?" Sam held up a hand to stop him, and Sammy looked at him, confused. 

"Uh...yes?"

Sam practically clapped his hands with glee. "Hoooly shi--" he caught himself, trying vainly to hold in his excitement and failing "What are the fucking odds? I climb too! All Nathan and I are ever ABOUT is climbing to find treasure!" 

"Really?" Sammy looked interested, and Sam sent his past self an enormous surge of gratitude for making treasure-hunt-climbing even a thing.

"Yeah! Where d'you go?"

Sammy nodded back towards the way they'd came. "There's some cliffs right over the water, across the river from me. Always makes it easy to practice--you know, if I fall in."

"You fall a lot?" Sam gave him a teasing smirk, and Sammy laughed again before moving forward. "Not anymore I don't. But you guys probably climb more on land, right?"

"Yeah. Tell you what, next time we're doing a climb, I'll invite you and you can try it with some more support and some ropes. Hell, maybe we can even do it today, if we find a good spot." 

"Okay," Sammy replied brightly as they headed towards the shoreline. His response was so cheery and easy, yet it was LITERALLY making Sam's hands shake from excitement. Another yes, he thought. Crazy, this is crazy. 

Their surf lesson this morning had been postponed, since a sudden tropical storm had swept in for a few hours, and Sam admitted he was kind of looking forward more to the chance to really take his time with Sammy in Libertalia. 

"And here we are," he said triumphantly as they arrived on shore, the sun already being quick to dry their clothes and make Sammy's skin glisten "Libertalia. Long-lost pirate utopia of one Henry Avery." 

"Wow," Sammy said appreciatively, stepping up to be beside him, and the two of them headed into the trees--Sam feeling like a kid who was getting to show his crush his new toy.


	14. Chapter 14

"Whoa-ohoh, there, Sammy! Easy," Sam laughed, catching Sammy in his grip as Sammy fumbled a little on a ledge. He pulled the younger guy closer to the cliff-face--and to him, but he figured this was a plausible cover for that--keeping his right arm tight around the kid as he held himself upright easily with his left. This came naturally to him, after years of practice with Nathan, and he was pleased to see that Sammy hadn't been bluffing about his skill. He'd been holding his own, right up until now--and Sam couldn't be happier that said error had occurred when he was within easy reach of him. For his safety, yes, but also mostly just because that meant he now had an excuse to wrap the kid up under his arm like he'd wanted to since they met. 

"Heh, thanks," Sammy panted, a little nervously, obviously unnerved by the lack of a watery cushion below him. He was grateful for Sam's support; it felt nice to have someone to hold on to, especially when a rough landing most certainly would've awaited him. He felt more of that buzzy tightness and tension from the side-abs-touch, too; it didn't feel creepy like with Rafe's handshake, more like just...new. 

"Here, I'll pull you up." Sam hopped up deftly and laid down on the ledge to lift Sammy, his arms outstretched like he was going to pick up a large baby, and Sammy laughed at the sight a little before looking down again to readjust his feet. "You're almost there," Sam continued jokingly "you got this--" The last words were a grunt as Sammy gave a little hop and was literally lifted through the air by the bigger guy. 

Sammy felt Sam's hand on his back, and the other around his shoulders, just a little bit underneath his arms to help officially pull him off the cliff. "Whew, thanks," he breathed, slowly getting to his feet and straightening. Sam gave him a little pat on the back. "Look at that. We'll make a land-climber out of you yet. Come on--" he nodded towards the lush treeline "Libertalia's this way. And no Shoreliners to stop us this time." 

Sam figured that focusing on the 'mission' today was a better idea than focusing on the fact that he was literally about to lose it from excitement. Okay, yes, Sammy had only let him pick him up because it was for a climbing thing, but still--

Sam had touched him, Sammy had let Sam touch him--he'd let him touch him--he'd gotten to TOUCH him--HOLD him, even--

Sammy noticed some ruins up ahead then and started moving faster excitedly, and Sam let his smirk grow in private. Best. Date. Ever, he murmured to himself giddily.

Forty-five minutes later, Sam was just about done with his historical tour and Sammy was done with his exploring--and Sam figured it was time for a drink. He'd actually come prepared this time, with a little knapsack wrapped around one shoulder. 

As they emerged from underneath one broken-in floor, and Sammy cheerfully coughed out "Heh. Dusty.", Sam put a hand on his back, concerned. "You don't have asthma or anything, do you?"

"No," Sammy said with a smile, letting out one more little cough. "Just-*keck*--dusty." 

Hearing that cute little cough made Sam smile back. "Here. I know a great bar. We'll have a drink." He gestured to his backpack, and Sammy followed gratefully. 

Sitting by some old swords, sipping waters, Sam offered Sammy one more beer. "You sure you don't wanna try...?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows. Sammy rolled his eyes in return. "Come on," wheedled Sam, "we're in pirate HEAVEN here. You've GOT to drink to this."

Sammy shook his head slowly, but was already laughing, and Sam saw the noise for the concession that it was. Smirking, he handed over the beer--figuring Sammy wouldn't be able to go through one on his own--and watched Sammy drink it with an adorable wince at the flavor. 

"Eh, it grows on you," he said with a shrug when Sammy looked at him accusingly. 

A minute later, Sam couldn't help himself from talking again. "Sooo you really never had one before?" He gestured to the beer in response to Sammy's questioning look. His doe eyes looked more soft now, more like they had before being frightened by Rafe. Sam stared right into those eyes for a second before starting to feel funny and having to look away. He knew if he kept looking, he was going to kiss him. Slow and steady, Nate had said. Don't scare the poor kid. 

Sammy let out a little laugh. "Ehh, I've had some before. Didn't really like it."

"Like how you don't really like clubs. Or smoking. Or fun," Sam teased, knowing from Sammy's posture that he was taking it lightly. Sammy laughed again in response. He liked Sam's jokes. Just a few minutes ago, Sam had even done a great impression of a pirate with an old, far-too-rusty sword. 

Another moment, and Sam was speaking again. Sammy liked how much the older guy talked; it made him feel less like he was supposed to be trying. 

"You ever done...anything in my wheelhouse of 'fun'? Anything at all?" Sam tried to make the question joking, even though he could feel how awkward it came out. Sammy chose to overlook the slight lilt in the question, or whatever it was that was making it seem weird. 

He shrugged and took another tiny sip. Sam smirked as he saw it; he was really going to have to stop staring at those lips...or maybe he could just always give the kid bottles, so he could ALWAYS stare and imagine a kiss. 

"I took a hit of X once. It was kind of an accident, though. And I was sick for like a week after." 

"No shit, you serious?" Sam felt his eyebrows go up. He hadn't expected the kid to mention straight-up ECSTASY as a starter. 

Sammy nodded, taking another adorably dainty sip. 

"Wait, you wanna tell me how someone ACCIDENTALLY takes a hit of ecstasy?" he asked. "How old were you?!"

Sammy shrugged. "Twelve."

Sam gaped. "Someone gave a TWELVE YEAR-OLD a hit of X." 

Sammy nodded and took another tiny sip. "I didn't like it," he said quietly. 

"No SHIT you didn't like it," Sam said so fervently that Sammy looked over at him, eyebrow raised. "you were twelve! Jeeeeeesus." He pulled out a cigarette. "Who the hell gives a kid somethin' like that?" 

"Maybe the same person who gives him a beer when he's underage," Sammy joked sardonically. Sam's eyes widened, as did his grin; was Sammy flirting? 

"Heyyy, now," Sam said, his cigarette between his teeth and his hands help up "that's a beer, given by a responsible adult. Look, I didn't even give you your own. You're havin' mine." 

Sammy started to hand it back, and Sam jokingly swatted it away. "What, you kiddin'? I just got you DRINKIN' the thing, I'm not taking it away!" 

Something about the Drake brother's phrasing made Sammy feel weirdly fuzzy inside. Bashful, almost. He settled for just rolling his eyes a little and taking another sip, looking out over Libertalia instead of at the man next to him. 

"When's your birthday, anyway?" Sam asked abruptly. Sammy looked at him sideways, raising an eyebrow again, and Sam started speaking quickly again, "I know, I know, Victor said you were an orphan. Like Nathan and I are," he said somewhat lightly, even though he felt Sammy's gaze sharpen on him. "But I mean, you gotta have a day you PICKED for it, right?" 

Sammy's body had visibly tensed at the subject change--his body already feeling a little tense from the weird fuzzy feeling--and Sam was relieved to not-so-casually observe that his shoulders relaxed as the subject rapidly returned to lighter ground. He shook his head ruefully. "No, I never did."

"Really?" Sam was surprised. "No no no no no, that's like Phase 1 of Operation Orphan, all right." He held up a jokingly-stern finger. "You pick one and get back to me. I'm gonna hold you to that," he said teasingly, and something in the teasing tone made Sammy feel a slight blush. Fortunately it didn't actually spread to his cheeks, but the warm sensation was enough for him to be thrown off by his own reaction. 

Trying to hide how thrown he was, he took another little sip of the beer. "Fine, fine." 

"You know," Sam said after another moment, "a lot of pirates were orphans." 

"So basically it's your destiny," Sammy laughed, relaxing more again. 

Sam held up his hands and gestured to himself. "Hey, do I look like a pirate or do I LOOK LIKE A PIRATE!" 

They looked at each other for a moment in comical silence, before speaking at the same time. 

"That was rhetorical-"

"I'm assuming that was rhetorical?-"

Two small laughs later, and Sam stood up and stretched. "Come on," he said, regretting his words, but knowing he needed to say them "We gotta get you home before another storm hits." The clouds weren't dark, but he knew they could be in a split second. 

"Yeah, okay." Sammy got up and joined him; and on the ride home, when Sam watched Sammy's deep brown eyes mellow and melt and get sleepy, the lashes dropping further and further and lingering with each other in slow blinks, it was all he could do not to kiss the breath out of him and lay him down on the boat's deck and hold him and call it a day.


	15. Chapter 15

It had been a great date--even if Sam couldn't call it that officially yet. He still didn't want to scare the kid, after all. But something had come up the next day with a job, for both of them--Sammy for a Malaysian translation, Sam for a treasure hunt with Nathan in Bimini--and Samuel Drake had found himself once again reluctantly leaving town. Sammy had given him a perfectly normal, casual and friendly goodbye--and that was more than enough for Sam to be riding high. 

Today, he was sitting in a British bar with the usual gang, this time without Nadine but including Harry Flynn. The place was raucous for a Tuesday night, and steadily getting rowdier. 

A nice-looking British man walked by and gave Sam the eye; Sam didn't even acknowledge his presence, and Harry rapped him on the arm. "Hey, mate, the hell was that about? That's Scott Ryder, he's hot! I've been there, mate. You'll have a devil of a good time!" He winked and sipped his drink--but Sam was already leaning back and shrugging, lighting another cigarette. "No thanks, Harry, not in the mood," he said casually--but his past history meant that it had no effect, and Harry's eyes widened instantly. "NOT in the MOOD?" he repeated, staggered. "YOU? You serious? I've never met anyone hornier than you!" 

"Shut up," Sam grumbled, as the others laughed over him. "You do have a track record, Sam," Victor said, lighting up a cigar and chuckling. "Hey, Sam, remember that time--" Nathan started to say, but one look from his big brother shut him up, and he settled himself further back into the booth to contentedly nibble on some mozzarella sticks. 

"The hell is wrong with you?" Harry asked, brow furrowed. "You sick or something?" 

Chloe chuckled girlishly, and Sam's eyes snapped towards her in warning. Undeterred, Chloe pressed on. "He's not sick, Harry, he's just preoccupied. He's busy working on a particularly reluctant twink in Madagascar."

Harry's eyes widened mischievously--then widened further in recognition. Sam, seeing the change, straightened. "What?"

"Madagascar? You've gotta be talking about Sammy. Cute little guy, insanely sexy, right?" He looked pleased with himself--until he saw that Sam's face was like thunder. "I don't KNOW him, Sam, I only met him once mate, I swear! Couldn't tell if he was straight or not, so I was content to just admire from afar, if you get my drift." He made as if to wink, then rapidly shifted gears to look contrite upon seeing Sam's face darken further. "Apologies, mate, I really don't know him. Only met the one time, thought he was gorgeous. Two years ago or so, I think."

Elena gaped. "That would mean he was FIFTEEN, Harry." 

"So?" Harry shrugged, but did look distinctly uncomfortable. "I didn't know that, I just knew he was high-quality. And really, Sam, I never even TOUCHED the kid, didn't even FLIRT with him actually, so please stop looking like you're going to hit me." 

Sam started smoking a cigarette, but didn't change his expression. He'd just been reminded of another threat: Rafe. Two minutes later, he'd texted Jameson in King's Bay and gotten him to agree to give him a heads-up if Rafe came to town--and, not-so-coincidentally, it was also two minutes later that he started cheering up. Not to mention wondering what Sammy was doing now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sammy, as it happened, was taking his time going through the marketplace and admiring the sunset. It was always nice at this time of night in King's Bay: all relaxed chatter mixed with the silent menace of the oncoming night. This meant that most tourists started heading inside their hotels, and vendors closed up shop--meaning Sammy got to feel like he was traveling unnoticed, for once. 

Or, at least, he did, until he got to his shack and walked in to see a certain man casually flicking through his papers. 

Rafe. 

He looked up when Sammy came in, and smiled, standing from where he'd been leaning. The sunset still provided enough light to see clearly in this part of the bay, making it perfectly easy to see the serious and careful expression on the boy's face. Rafe smirked. Jesus, the kid is still nervous, he thought, and his groin stirred to see it. 

"You're even sexier than I remember," he said succinctly, ignoring the way that Sammy's head automatically drew back at the direct come-on. 

Still trying to keep the conversation--and his heart rate--on an even keel, Sammy moved over to the opposite wall near the door to the beach and put his hands in his pockets. He'd prefer to have them out for a fight, but was still clinging to the hope that his body language would be enough to keep the man off. 

"Ha. Thanks. You got something for me?" He immediately regretted his usual choice of words; the man's Cheshire-cat-grin said that he was NOT taking the question appropriately. "I do. A plane ride and a five-star hotel room, smack-dab on the shorelines of Ibiza." 

Sammy raised an eyebrow, and couldn't help a little interest showing in his eyes. Ibiza was known for its surfing; he'd always wanted to go. But the prospect of the FIRST half of the sentence was another matter. 

"Nah, no thanks," Sammy said smoothly, managing to keep his voice more cocksure and steady this time. His posture stayed casual, although he really wanted to move outside to the water. 

"Sammy." Rafe stepped closer, taking advantage of the inch he had on the kid. Sammy's hands twitched with the desire to get out of his pockets, and he couldn't help some of his composure slipping when Rafe got so close so suddenly. They weren't even a foot apart now. "You're not stupid. I know you know what I want. So," he shrugged, speaking matter-of-factly "you let me fuck you. On the plane, in the hotel, on the BEACH if that's what you want," he said brightly "We can do it however you'd like. Really. As long as I've got you, bent over, that ass in my hands, I don't care about much else." 

Sammy couldn't do anything but stare at him. Which Rafe only found sexier. 

He stepped even closer and lowered his voice. "Cards on the table, Sammy, if it's money and plane rides you want it's money and plane rides you'll GET. And I won't hurt you; 'least, not unless you want me to." He gave the kid a smirk so devilishly sexual that Sammy almost quaked. 

"Think about it, Sammy. You've got some money, but I know you don't want to risk spending it. I can give you that freedom; anywhere you want, as OFTEN as you want. And Sammy," his lips were almost on Sammy's now, with Sammy still frozen and practically trembling "I'll make you come. You can count on that. You'll LIKE me fucking you, even if you're usually straight. After all," he smiled a little "A tongue is a tongue." 

That was enough for Sammy to punch him. And, seeing Rafe sprawled on the ground, he couldn't help giving him a few more well-placed martial-arts kicks. Groaning, Rafe gradually began standing--only to be literally kicked and punched in a flurry of violence until he was sprawled again, bloody and dusty now, on the ground outside. "Don't come back," Sammy said, eyes dark, and he stared until Rafe stumbled away. 

And Sammy proceeded to try everything from fishnet-weaving to lemur-watching to star-gazing to calm himself down. Every activity failed, and he realized that he wanted...something. No. SomeONE. Just to talk to...as crazy as it made him feel to think it, he actually wanted a hug.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I looked it up and apparently King's Bay isn't real, but it's supposedly based on Maroantsetra in Madagascar.

Two weeks later, Sammy found himself in an odd situation: he was actually traveling for work, up in a remote part of Morafeno, a town a few hours west of his home city Maroantsetra. He wasn't particularly crazy about the guys he was traveling with--they were South African, from that army he remembered the Drake brothers mentioning--and although he spoke Xhosa and could communicate with them easily, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of killing people for money. Especially when three of the five men had hit on him already. 

Goddamnit, Sammy had thought to himself, am I wearing a sign or something?

Now, he and the men were in a tent, prepared to meet some "Boss Lady" and go over his translation findings--and then in walked Samuel Drake.

Sam's heart nearly stopped, and he literally stumbled into Nadine from behind, when he saw who was waiting for him inside. Sammy was bent over the table of documents facing them, and gave him that look up from under his lashes that was so intense, and Sam instantly smiled. Sammy's own mouth started smiling automatically, and his body visibly relaxed--or maybe moved to a different kind of tension--when he recognized Sam. 

Sammy faintly remembered the woman as one from when they'd made him go in that club; he was too busy looking at Sam Drake to care. Sam was absolutely beaming, and Sammy felt he wasn't far behind. He remembered just how much he liked hanging out with this guy. This job might have sucked so far, but THIS was a pleasant surprise. There weren't many people that Sammy was always genuinely pleasantly surprised to see, but Sam was one of them, he realized now. 

"Heyyy!" Both said at the same time; Nadine and the soldiers looked unsettled, shifting in place and completely thrown off by the informal and happy greetings that were the exact OPPOSITE of the serious military tone they were going for.

"What're you doing here?" Sammy said at the same time Sam said "God's balls, look who it is." 

Nadine was nonplussed; she wanted to be a formal and party-pooping smartass, embracing her commanding officer status, but she was also Sam's friend. And THIS was the most excited she'd seen him about anything since finding Libertalia. Even if his vernacular might've needed some tuning up.

Torn between the two roles, she settled for a compromise. With a patronizing smile and a pat on Sam's arm--which BARELY got his attention off of the twink standing across from him--she said, sweetly but firmly, "All right, Sam, you can say hello later. For now, I'd just like to see what Sammy's got. Sammy? I'm Nadine Ross, the boss." Sam smirked a little at the accidental rhyme, and she ignored him. "What do you have for me?" 

Sammy moved on to the task at hand with a relaxed smile; Samuel Drake, on the other hand, looked like he was literally chomping at the bit to get to Sammy. He looked so much like a ravenous dog that Nadine almost didn't WANT him to get Sammy at the end of the brief meet-up; but, alas, she was too late. The second there was a hint of finality in her voice, Sam stepped around the table and used his left arm to side-drag Sammy out of the tent. 

"Thank you Nadine, now if you don't MIND I've got some catching up to do with my friend here! Sammy, let's go get us some drinks. Since I've finally got you on beers--"

And she heard Sammy laugh as he was lovingly dragged along--and Nadine couldn't help smiling. 

Behind her, the three soldiers were looking on jealously. "Lucky bastard," one whispered in Xhosa. "Couldn't drag him out of here fast enough," another muttered, and the third chuckled ruefully. "With an ass like that, can you blame him?"

"So how the hell did they get you out of your little shack, huh?" Sam was asking Sammy from where they were perched on the rooftop of a shack in the shanty-town nearby. It had only taken them a few minutes to get beers and some food, and Sam had helped Sammy onto the roof even though he was pretty sure the kid didn't need any help. Now they sat, looking out over the Shoreline camp and the various lights flickering from the town while listening to the occasion raucous conversations. 

Sammy was in the middle of opening up his barbecue sandwich, licking the sauce from his fingers as he did so, and Sam abruptly had to take another swig from his beer in order to distract himself from the sight. "Eh, money mostly," Sammy said casually, finally lifting his sandwich to take a bite. "And it's only a couple hours away, I figured I could stretch out a bit." 

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but not before Sammy spoke up again. "Plus--" he swallowed his food and focused his gaze on the next bite, instead of on Sam "that guy Rafe showed up again, and he was kinda bothering me so I figured I'd leave town for a while. Couldn't hurt." He deliberately kept his voice light still, despite knowing that this was the equivalent of dropping a small bomb. 

And indeed it was; Sam had been lifting his beer to his lips and paused it midair when Sammy started speaking up again--sensing from the rapid interruption that something was off--and now he stiffened and put his beer down beside him, leaning towards the kid next to him and earnestly fixing his eyes on Sammy's face. 

"He what?" Sam's voice was low and dangerous now. Sammy could feel his gaze, but refused to look at him, focusing instead on his food and keeping his body casual with a shrug. "Yeah, he was freaking me out a little bit so here I am. It'll blow over, and I had this job offer, so..." he trailed off with another bite. 

Sam didn't talk for a moment, which actually made Sammy MORE uncomfortable, so he just kept on eating his sandwich. 

"Is he still there?" The ominous question came after almost an unprecedented-minute of silence, and Sammy actually looked at Sam now. "I don't know," he said tentatively. Sam's face looked...dark, and serious, and knowing that Rafe's threats towards HIM were the cause was making Sammy feel...well, he didn't know what. But he knew it felt kind of...good. He kept watching Sam's face, swallowing his food quietly, and actually SAW Sam's biceps flex. 

Sam sighed suddenly, visibly gritting his teeth before shifting to sit closer to Sammy. "Alright, I'll take care of Rafe. YOU--" his eyes got earnest now, and he put an arm around Sammy and gave him an unexpected squeeze, making Sammy almost drop his sandwich "don't worry about him, alright? You got nothing to worry about. I'm sorry he scared you. Again. SHIT," he ran his free hand through his hair angrily, looking away for a second in frustration before muttering "I can't believe he fucking came back."

Sammy started to take another tenuous bite of his sandwich, letting Sam keep his arm around him--and assuming that Sam would move it away. But he didn't, actually, and Sammy shifted his weight a little bit, hoping he'd get THAT hint. Instead, Sam held him a little tighter, squeezing to get his attention. 

"Hey."

Sammy looked up at him again expectantly. Sam looked upset. "You're not gonna worry about it anymore, right? You can go home whenever you want to; I won't let him bother you anymore. Really, Sammy. I won't." 

Sammy gave a little laugh and nodded bashfully, a little embarrassed to admit he was scared. "Yeah, thanks." 

Sam relaxed enough at that to notice his arm, and rapidly removed it--not that he wanted to. "Hey, I tell you about what happened to us in India?" he asked, voice moving back into a jocular range. Sammy perked up at that, and shook his head. "Okay. So there's this Tusk, see--" Sam started gesturing with his hands comically, Sammy leaning in a little to eat and hear the story as the moon began to shine in the sky.

Four hours later, the food was gone--after Sam had gone to get second helpings for Sammy, despite Sammy's protests ("no way, kid, you're skinny enough as it is," he'd scoffed affectionately)--and the beers were empty, and Sam and Sammy were still laughing. 

"That's crazy," Sammy concluded, so obviously impressed that Sam couldn't help puffing up a little with pride. "And we got a generous finder's fee from the Ministry of Culture, too," he said through a cigarette. Glancing at the sky, he straightened up and stretched. "Alright, kiddo, we gotta get you home. You need a ride?" 

Sammy thought of the flirtatious soldiers he'd have to ride back home with otherwise. "Sure, thanks." 

The next three hours were more of the same--at least, until Sammy's head started nodding, and Sam gave him a little shove and told him to go to sleep. This, as it turned out, was a mistake, because Sam couldn't help looking over at the sleeping Sammy every five seconds and almost got into countless crashes along the way. Still, they got back safely, and even though Sammy's wave goodbye was a sleepy one, it was cheerful; so Sam proceeded to leave with yet another enormous grin on his face.


	18. Chapter 18

Sammy shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. There was a party going on, here in the restaurant, across from his solitary little booth. Apparently it was almost Christmas--and the realization that he'd completely MISSED it was...well, it was bothering him a little. He didn't love Christmas--he'd never even HAD a nice one--but he felt weird about completely leaving his country and customs behind. It was one thing to head to the tropics for a sunny holiday; ditching America entirely was a whole other story. Not that his hometown had ever done HIM much good--

"Sammy?" 

Sammy blinked out of his reverie, where he'd been sedately hunched over his barbecue, and grinned. "Sully!" 

Sully, Nathan, Sam and the blonde woman that he hadn't officially met were all there, striding into the place with smiles. "Hey, kid," Sully said gruffly, pulling the now-standing Sammy into a brief, but affectionate, hug. "It's been a few months now; how ya doin'." 

Sammy was still smiling and gave one of his cute little shrugs. "Good. Same old same old. I hear you got into some trouble in Martinique," he said brightly. "Bad job?"

"More like bad FRIENDS," Sully grumbled good-naturedly, gesturing to Nathan and Sam. Sam was buzzing like a hummingbird, eager to get the attention of Sammy, but he jokingly bristled at the insult. "Hey!" He said, throwing up his hands. "We came BACK for you, didn't we?" 

"Yeah, well, after six days in prison I could still use some good barbecue," Sully said, sitting down. Nate graciously backed up to let Sam slide into the booth next to his crush, sliding in with Elena after Sam. 

Sammy was laughing, already proffering his food casually. "Here, have the rest of mine."

"Nope." Sully shook his head. "You're already too skinny for my liking, I'm not helping it along!"

Sammy laughed again, and Sam gently bumped his arm against his. "Don't listen to him," he said, and Sammy smiled at hearing the Boston accent. "He was only in prison for FIVE days." 

"Five and a HALF," Sully said, as Nate reached for a fry. "This is Elena Fisher, by the way," Nathan added with a smile. Sammy gave her a friendly head-nod, and she grinned back. "I don't think you two actually met before." 

Sam glanced at Nathan, unnerved by the reminder of the awkward club encounter last time, but Nathan brushed it off and gave Sam a wide-eyed 'What else could I do?' kind of little-brother look. 

"Don't eat Sammy's fries!" Sully said, swatting at Nathan as he reached for one. "I just wanted to try the sauce--" Nate protested while Sammy laughed. "NO. The kid's too skinny. Come on, we'll go order and you can have fries of your OWN." Sully practically manhandled Nathan up to the counter while Elena followed behind, amused.

Sam coughed a little. "Speaking of you being skinny...I got you somethin'. Er, well I HAVE somethin'. For you."

Sammy looked at him, surprised, as Sam quickly lifted up his gift before the others could come back and see. He'd thought of wrapping it, making it look more like a present--but the blush that had spread across his face just from THINKING about doing that made it a no-go. "I just, I mean I know you're skinny, and it occurred to me that skinny people get cold a lot, and IIIIII, I mean this doesn't fit me that well anymore so I figured you could...use it." He placed the jean jacket in Sammy's lap, gesturing aimlessly as he explained, and felt for a solid second like he was going to pass out. Fuck, courtship was stressful. 

Sammy lifted the jacket, still really surprised and more than a little touched. Nobody ever really got him presents. And it was Christmas...

"Wow, you sure?" he asked, smiling as he looked between the jacket and Sam. "If it still fits you--"

"It doesn't," Sam lied. "And the wool collar's nice for the cold, too. Wear it. Keep yourself from getting sick during the colder season." 

Sammy grinned wide, still fondling the jacket. "I actually really DO get cold. Thanks, Sam!" he said it genuinely, looking right into Sam's eyes as he said it, and Sam beamed when he realized that Sammy was really, actually emotionally moved. Suddenly growing bashful--and seeing the others coming over--he shifted in his seat and started filling a glass from the pitcher of beer. "Just don't try it on right now, alright, I don't want Nathan saying you look better in it than me." 

Sammy laughed. "Okay." He fingered the jacket's collar again. It smelled like cigarettes and something musky--Sam, he abruptly realized--and he felt a smile come back on his face. Sam had brought a jacket. For HIM. HIS jacket. 

That thought suddenly started to make him uncomfortable, though, and he was relieved to join in the more fluffy conversation that happened for the night as the other three rejoined the table. And Sam--and Sam's jacket--were there with him all the while.


	20. Chapter 20

It was another several months before Sam saw Sammy again--although not, much to Sam's disappointment, without lack of trying. He and Nathan got tied up in a job that took much longer than expected--and by the time they were done with the loose ends, Sam was practically chomping at the bit to get back to King's Bay. 

"Could reallllllly use a goddamn cigarette right about now," Sam muttered, sitting down and handcuffed next to his brother in the boat's hold. Nate glanced at his sibling; Sam didn't usually use that particular swear, ever since he discovered that it was Sully's signature. Sam didn't want to give Sullivan the satisfaction. But now, Sully wasn't here--and the twitch of Sam's jawline told Nathan that his brother really was pissed.

"Easy, Sam," he murmured, forgoing any attempts to be cheerful and trying for calming. 

It didn't work. "How much longer is he gonna be?!" Sam blurted out in an exasperated whisper. Nate knew the older Drake's hands would be flying dramatically if they weren't cuffed behind his back. "I mean, Jesus, we're already getting too far away from land--"

"Sam." 

"And how hard IS it to find the one boat that's in these waters, particularly from a PLANE, I might add--"

"Sam---"

"I told you, I've ALWAYS told you, the second we turn our backs on Victor there'll be a knife in there--"

"SAM!"

He looked at his younger brother snippily, surprised to see a pitying expression instead of an angry one. "WHAT, Nathan?" 

Nate's blue eyes pored into his. "We'll GET back to King's Bay, Sam." Sam's face fell, quickly shifting to look young and embarrassed. "Don't worry," Nate smiled, leaning to bump his brother a little with his side. Sam let out a groan, tearing his eyes away from his brother's kind ones and looking down at the metal floor in embarrassment. 

"I just...I kinda miss 'im, that's all." It was practically a whisper, ending with a high, vulnerable pitch, and Nate watched him, baby blues sympathetic. "I know," he said kindly. Sam's eyes slowly looked up to meet Nate's tentatively, and Nate bumped him again--right before an explosion made the ship shudder. 

"HaHA!" Nate grinned triumphantly, even as the two of them were somersaulted back and forth "THERE he is!"

The plane's faint zoom overhead soon combined with staccato gunfire, and before they knew it Sam and Nathan were hauling ass out of the window--and doing their very best attempts at flutter-kicking over to the floatplane, arms still bound.

"Nice to see you, boys," Sully said cheerfully, pulling them up into the plane one by one, both sopping and coughing. "You good?" "Waterlogged, but yeah," Nate said quickly, smiling and hoping that his response was good enough to cut the grumpy Sam's off. "Where to now?" Sully asked, and Nate answered again, watching Sam's glower instantly fade at his statement. 

"Actually, King's Bay again, thank you very much." 

Sully raised an eyebrow, but didn't question the younger Drake--and he had the good sense to avoid making eye contact with the increasingly-blushing Samuel behind him. 

As it turned out, Sully also had the grace to pretend NOT to notice when Sam all but left them behind at the dock, practically dancing in place with his duffel while Nathan and Sullivan came up behind. Nathan watched affectionately as his brother's hazel eyes already started perusing the beaches and the crowds. Yellow surfboard...yellow surfboard...he was so busy looking that he jumped when Nate touched his elbow. 

"Hey," Nate spoke low, smiling "gimme your bag, Sully and I'll check in." 

"Yeah?" Sam grinned, giving Nathan a pat on the back and immediately heading off with a little skip in his step. "Thanks, little brother."

Sammy was on his way out of Jameson's barbecue place, having just had another good lunch before going back to his little shack. It was a pleasantly hot, sunny day--Sam's coat had already helped Sammy through some colder days so far, but he kept to himself when he was wearing it; for some reason snuggling into the too-big jacket as the rain poured down outside made him blush, and he wanted absolutely no witnesses for that--and Sammy had his back turned, saying one last thing to Jameson as he was leaving, when--

"Heyyyy, there he is! How's it going, Sammy. I've been lookin' for you." Sam Drake beamed down at him as they bumped into each other, grinning and wrapping a firm arm around him in a side hug and looking down at him as happily as if he were a sunken treasure. Sammy, surprised, smiled in response. "Oh! Hey," he managed, relaxing a little after the initial jolt. "When'd you guys get here?"

"Couple minutes ago," Sam shrugged, smiling and looking around at the marketplace--but still keeping Sammy in his arm. Fishing for something to say, he abruptly looked back down at the kid under his bicep. "Hey, what're you doing today, huh? I never got my surf lesson."

Sammy glanced up at him in surprise, still a little thrown off by the hug, and Sam tightened his grip around Sammy in a motivational little shake. Definitely NOT as an excuse to hold the guy tighter, Sam told himself, definitely NOT--

"Oh," Sammy said lightly, recovering, "yeah, sure. It's a good day for it."

Sammy felt like his entire shoulder and left arm was one hot tingly mess. He was INCREDIBLY aware of Sam's thumb sliding up and down on his bicep, and abruptly found it hard to breathe. Thank God for the hustle and bustle as a distraction--Sammy's mind was NOT going to acknowledge how weird this felt. It was just that no one ever really touched him, and--

It didn't take long for Sammy to rustle up another surfboard on loan; a shabby, but solid one, which he joked was only the basic requirement--and it took even less time for Sammy to start relaxing again, particularly after Sam stopped touching him. Sam did well in the water; not great, like Nathan probably would've--although he would deny THAT little gem to his grave--but good. And he got to marvel at Sammy's confidence, at his genuine SAMMY-ness, in the waves. Sammy was in his element here, truly, and it showed; he was all grins and laughs and simple advice, and BOTH boys emerged from the water at sunset wet, sandy, and all smiles.

"You were good," Sammy said as they walked back towards town, hungry from the salt and the waves' pounding. Sam grinned at him, panting. "Really?"

"Yeah." Sammy grinned back happily. Sam let out a giddy chuckle. "Ha, I gotta tell Nathan. Hey--" he pulled Sammy into another side-hug, both of them shirtless this time, and kept the hug quick since he could immediately feel his urge to start that hand moving "thanks. This was cool."

"No problem."

Sammy, for his part, was just tremendously relieved when Sam let go. The guy was pretty handsy--but he figured that was just a Sam thing. And besides, he really DIDN'T get touched that often--even a hug from Sullivan felt weird--so it was probably just the novelty of the sensation that made it so peculiar. Sam's fingers slipped along and between his abs, though, just for a second as they left his side, a sharp tingle in their wake--and Sammy distinctly felt the urge to shake it off.

He did, under the guise of putting his shirt on, and Sam felt a twinge of disappointment at seeing the kid's toned body go back into hiding. He'd been a little nervous about stacking up--but Nathan, catching him doing some more early-morning and late-night workouts, had talked him down over the past few weeks. He WAS in good enough shape for this kid; he just--in the face of the kid's ripped surfer muscles, and GOD that V--

Putting on his own shirt, Sam tried to regroup. "Whaddya say we get some of that barbecue, ah?" 

Sammy nodded, smiling and stowing their boards. "Yeah. I'm hungry."

"I'll finally get to see you eat somethin' other than FRUIT," Sam joked, pleased to see the younger guy smiling again. As they neared the ramshackle restaurant, though, the great Samuel Drake started to get nervous. It had already taken a long time to get the kid to the touching--and MAYBE, sort of, sometimes flirting--point, and Sam couldn't deny that he was finding this slow pursuit really, really sexy--but he also couldn't bear to scare the kid, and this next part was really going to feel like a date. 

Sam sent a prayer of gratitude for his brother when he saw Nathan and Sullivan waving them over from inside, and watched Sammy relax further as the group started into meals and treasure-hunting-conversation. The theme also meant that Sam could tell some of his funny, crazy-ass stories--a task he always LOVED--both impressing and amusing the gang. Later on, as the sun had set and they were leaving--Jameson bidding everyone a good night, leaning out over his counter and watching the night go by--Sam suddenly blinked and reached into his pocket.

"Hey, hold on a second." He touched Sammy's arm, making him hang back while Nate all-but-dragged-Victor-away. Sammy turned back, looking up at the taller guy expectantly, and Sam suddenly got awkward. "I, ah...I got you somethin'," he said quickly, shrugging and pulling out a small, compact cell phone. Sammy stared at it, blinking in surprise. 

"I just--" Sam's words flew out, accent thickening as he defended himself "I know Victor's always goin' on about how he can never get in touch with you, and I put all our numbers in there, so this way if you, you know" he waved his hands vaguely, Sammy staring at him from under those long long lashes "get into some TROUBLE...give us a call." Sam hoped to God that Sammy understood that by "give us a call" he meant 'PLEASE call', and by "us" he meant 'ME'. 

Panicking, he spoke again even though Sammy was opening his mouth. "It's waterproof, and it's not FANCY or anythin', but it's the same kind we have and it holds up to stuff. Like, some serious shit kind of stuff," he laughed weakly.

"You didn't have to get me that," Sammy said politely, in the courteous traditional gift-receiving dance. Sam did his part and shook his head. "No no no, it's yours. Was cheap, too--NOT" he got flustered again, and Sammy started feeling a bemused smile, biting his lip a little, which only made Sam MORE flustered "THAT cheap, just--"

Sammy laughed and cut him a break. "I get it." He met Sam's gaze happily. "Thanks. This'll actually come in handy. And that--" now HE felt flustered, and spoke fast "that jacket has already helped keep me from getting sick, hasn't it Jameson."

Jameson, a few feet away behind his counter, nodded with a smile. "Sure has." 

"Cool," Sam murmured, taking a breath and smiling, "Cool." There was silence for a moment before he spoke up abruptly. "Aright, good night guys. Thanks" he pointed at Sammy affectionately, backing away "again for the surf lesson."

"Sure. It was fun," Sammy said easily, smiling and turning to leave in the opposite direction, hands in his pockets. He heard Jameson's 'psst', though, and glanced at him just in time to see the middle-aged man's wink. Confused, Sammy started to speak--but then customers showed up again, and Jameson waved him off, leaving Sammy to head home with a shrug. 

Meanwhile, Sam was all but skipping his way to the hotel. FUN, Sammy had said it was fun--FUN--he'd liked it with him--FUN--

Ah, hell, he thought, letting out a little skip and a fist bump in excitement. It was just him and the moon out here, anyway.


	21. Chapter 21

The next morning, Sammy was headed back into town--and stopped abruptly by Jameson's place when he remember the man's weird wink from last night. Jameson's daughter, Sophie, was there too; she was a petite girl Sammy's age, tan and feisty, with long, shiny dark hair. Her teeth flashed particularly brightly in a smile as Sammy showed up--they'd been friends for years, and she'd only just gotten back to town, so he smiled back. 

"Hey, Soph!" He let her pull him into a tight hug. "Jameson didn't tell me you were comin' back!"

"Just got in," she said happily.

"How was the trip?" Sophie had been on a volunteer expedition to Thailand, and had been excited about it for months. "It was GREAT," she beamed. "You've gotta come some time, Sammy, it's amazing--"

"Sammy's a little busy at the moment," Jameson interrupted with a smirk, winking again. Sammy remembered why he'd stopped by, and looked at the old man earnestly. "Jameson, WHAT do you keep winking at me about?"

Sophie looked between them, brow furrowing mischievously. "Dad, you never wink. Unless...?"

He nodded. "OHHHH yes, my darling daughter. SAMMY'S got an admirer."

Sophie's eyes widened almost as much as Sammy's did. "WHAT??" Sammy stepped closer, voice raising in alarm. "What are you talking abou--"

Samuel Drake popped up in front of them briskly then, almost breathless from trotting over. But he HAD to, he--Sammy was with a GIRL--a GORGEOUS girl--

"Hey, Sammy!" He said casually, but charmingly, deliberately thickening his Boston accent in a successful attempt to sound cool--and to cover his slight nervousness. "Who's this?" He gave Sophie a cursory, mildly-friendly glance, but his focus stayed fixed on Sammy.

Sammy looked at him, feeling pleased but thrown by his sudden arrival, and looked over at his friend to introduce her--but not before Sophie beat him to it, holding out her hand with a grin. "Sophie, Jameson's daughter and Sammy's best friend from years back. I just got back in town. And you are?"

"Sam Drake. But never the nickname," Sam laughed as he shook her hand, giving a nod to the guy smaller than him and a look that had...something in it. "Sammy gets to keep that all to himself." Sammy laughed a little weakly at the joke, suddenly developing a hunch about Jameson's 'admirer', and felt himself getting smaller. 

Curious about the look, and about Sammy's unspoken tension, Sophie kept investigating. "You a surfer-boy like this one, too?" She bumped Sammy affectionately, making him laugh and smile a little as she always did, and Sam's eyes lit up at seeing the younger guy laugh. 

"No, Sammy taught me yesterday, but I'm more of the boating type. I was actually coming by to try to get this guy to take another ride with me," he gestured to Sammy, and Sammy gave a little laugh, hands in his pockets--but Sophie knew it was his uneasy one. Sammy wanted to get out of there. But why? she wondered. 

"Well, Sammy likes boats. Why don't you go, Sammy? I'm assuming you have a destination in mind?" she smirked at Sam, who laughed easily. He could see that Sammy was looking a little uncomfortable--but also knew he really needed to push if he was ever gonna get anywhere.

"Yeah, Libertalia. My brother and I are treasure hunters and we discovered it. You heard of the place?"

"Yeah. Sammy and I have actually done a few small little treasure dives of our own over the past couple years, and he told me about it back then from one of his books."

"Oh, REALLY?"

Sam raised an eyebrow at Sammy, attempting to be flirtatious, but Sammy kept his game face on, even though he looked a little more withdrawn now. 

Fortunately, Sam didn't seem fazed by this expression at all; in fact, Sophie was getting the distinct impression that it was Sammy's usual face when it came to interactions with Sam.

Someone called out to Sam then--his brother and some other people, it looked like to Sammy--and Sam glanced towards them, internally cursing the interruption. He recovered quickly though, grinning full-wattage at Sammy and starting to trot backwards. "Oop, that's me. We're headin' out to do another sweep of Libertalia, just in case we've missed anything--But I'll see you later, all right? We'll get lunch and then head back out." He kept his cocky gaze on Sammy, refusing to move further away until he got a small nod in return. After Sammy's nod, he gave an undeniably sexy little smirk of approval at Sammy before giving the girl a wave. "Nice to meet you, Sophie!"

As soon as he'd trotted away, Sammy was turning back to the others and struggling to maintain a neutral face, hoping that they might let it go--

No such luck. "Sammmmyyyy...." Sophie said in a low sing-song that made Sammy feel like he was in trouble "That guy LIKES you."

Sammy rolled his eyes uncomfortably. "No he doesn't," he replied caustically, "it's not like that." Sophie and Jameson laughed. "Yes, he DOES! Sammy, the only reason he showed up just then was to ask if we were DATING. He wanted to make sure I wasn't your girlfriend!"

"She's right, Sammy," Jameson said with a knowing smile. Sammy feigned ignorance, keeping his face inscrutable, but they still felt the tension and discomfort radiating off of him.

Sophie gestured towards the now-far-away guy. "What, do you not like him or something? That guy was giving off nothing but good vibes! He seemed nice to me. Funny, too. And good-looking." She leaned into him with a teasing bump, and Sammy shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure what else to do. 

"To answer your question," Jameson said snidely, leaning over his counter, "THAT" he tilted his head Sam's way "is why I winked." 

Sammy felt like his mouth wasn't quite working, and just looked at them both tremulously. "Great," Jameson sighed, "we've broken Sammy. Sophie, I've gotta start cooking, but see if you can get this kid to stop short-circuiting. Bring 'im down to the water," he laughed. 

"Good idea," Sophie said, waving a hand in front of Sammy's still-immensely-uncomfortable face, making him flinch "we really DID break him. Come on, Sammy," she chirped, tugging him along "let's go talk some sense into your dumb head." 

It was a few minutes before she started talking again, speaking up as they left the town and neared the shore. "SO...do you really not like him, Sammy? I mean, at ALL?"

Sammy shrugged, relaxing more and more as they started getting closer to his shack and he felt like they were more alone. "No, he's cool. I like hanging out with him," he admitted sheepishly, voice going higher in self-defense.

"Sooooo?" Sophie gave him a comical expression. "You looked like he made you uncomfortable."

"He DOES make me uncomfortable," Sammy said in an uncharacteristic burst of confession, "I mean, he didn't really--or not THAT much--before, even though he's always kinda touchy-feely, but now that you put the IDEA in my head--" He looked chagrined to hear it come out of his own mouth and gave another shrug, mouth tight and eyes down.

"Why?" Sophie asked curiously; there was no mockery in her voice, and Sammy felt better not to hear it. "Would it be so BAD to like him? To let him like YOU?"

"I don't know, now that you and Jameson have brought it up I just get this feeling like--like the boat thing," he said, gesturing as Sophie nodded along "when he asked me to go with him it just felt...I don't know, kinda like he was trying to ask me on a....DATE."

Sophie kept her voice quiet and kind. "Andddd that's a bad thing?"

Sammy looked thrown as they headed towards the waterline to sit on the rocks. "I - I don't know, I mean YEAH I...I guess..."

They sat down, Sammy immediately putting his feet in the water and wiggling his toes. Sammy had always gravitated towards water, of any kind, and Sophie watched him relax a little more despite himself, smiling.

"Maybe...you're just SCARED, you know?" She kept the question coming out quick and casual, not wanting to place too much significance on it for fear of scaring him off again with a deep conversation. Sammy didn't do well with deep conversations or thoughts, unless they were at night on the water, and preferably by himself.

"I-I don't know,:" Sammy said defensively, voice getting higher as he threw up his hands in surrender. The gesture was ironically like Sam's, although the two of them didn't know it. "I don't know, Soph. I haven't really THOUGHT about guys like that. Or anybody really."

"I know," Sophie said faintly. "You don't date."

"I slept with some girls once," Sammy said abruptly, as if trying to make up for it, his mind already trying to turn away from the memory. "Just because they kept asking me to and I...I guess I thought it was something to check off the list. And it was nice. But I...I didn't like doing it with somebody I didn't know. It made me nervous. And it was intense. I didn't really like feeling that way with people who were practically strangers."

Sophie smiled ruefully. "No worries, Sammy; that makes sense."

Sammy sighed. 

There was commiserating silence for a moment before Sophie sat up straight and started talking brusquely, clapping her hands together. "Okay. New perspective. Sammy." Sammy gave her an amused look, since she'd spoken as if picking on a student in class even though he was the only one there. "Sammy, you literally get in street fights for money and kick other guys' asses for a paycheck." Sammy gave her a resentful look, since he already knew her opinion on his fighting, but she went on "So you have the skill and strength to HIT people who try to touch you or get too close in your personal space--personal space that we both know you value. Right?" She barely gave him time to give a grudging nod. Street fighting was probably his biggest weakness. "BUT" she held up a finger "you haven't hit HIM. THIS GUY has been getting in your space for months, a little closer every time, and you haven't thrown a single punch. And Sammy, I'm thinking that for you--" she patted him on the back companionably "that might be the biggest sign you're going to give yourself right now that you maybe kinda sorta MIGHT like him enough to be open to letting him try for it."

"It?" Sammy looked confused, but a little pleased.

Sophie laughed. "That ASS, Sammy. He wants to get it in! And YOU" she poked him "seem to like him enough that you might actually let him."

Sammy DID turn red now, making Sophie laugh hysterically. He felt a little thrown by the concept, but also a little...well, Sammy was too delicate with his thoughts to just outright think 'turned ON'. "I'm sorry, Sammy" she giggled minutes later, patting him on the back "I just wanted to see how red you would get."

Sammy rolled his eyes, still red but smiling now. "So?" she elbowed him. "Are you gonna go?" Sammy bit his lip, blushing more and looking down at the water sheepishly--and Sophie grabbed him in a hug, letting out a triumphant hoot and doing a little dance. "SAMMY's got a DAAA-ATE," she sang, dancing in place more. Sammy scoffed and fidgeted. "Shut up! You're making me more nervous--" "Okay, okay," she laughed. "For now." Sammy scoffed again, glancing out over the water and envisioning Samuel Drake on the boat. He WAS nervous now--but maybe, just maybe, a little excited too.


	22. Chapter 22

For Sammy, the next few hours couldn't go by fast enough. Torn between excitement and tension, he'd spent most of his time surfing it out--so now, the residual high just a little bit still intact, he made his way back towards Jameson's in the marketplace. 

"Heyyy, there he is! How's it goin', Sammy. I got us food to go!" Sam had shown up out of nowhere--actually, he'd been smoking a cigarette on the corner, take-out bag in hand and loitering while Nathan elegantly pretended NOT to notice that his brother was clocking the crowd for a certain someone. And now, seeing Sammy, he'd promptly dropped his cigarette and run over, dodging the crowds and giving Nathan a pat on the arm as he left as a form of temporary goodbye. Nathan knew this was his brother's bottom line, and so did the chuckling Sully: Nathan always stopped for cute animals, Sully always stopped for redheaded women, and Sam always stopped for Sammy.

The Drake brother put his arm around Sammy in a side hug now, and--after remembering Sophie's conversation with him this morning--Sammy actually let him. Sam was VERY in tune to Sammy's tiny little nuances of behavior that he gave off by now, so he immediately recognized that Sammy was actually staying still under his arm. No shrugging, no shifting--nothing that would signal any kind of discomfort with the contact. Otherwise, Sammy's "Hey. You know, same old same old." and casual smile and eyes still staying ahead to navigate through the crowd were the same--but Sam's heart jumped in his chest in excitement and he couldn't help his smile growing ten times wider as he felt Sammy lean into him a little bit in the crowd. Sammy was a lean, lithe, balanced, athletic kid; if he wanted to get through that crowd on his own, without touching Sam's body at all, he WOULD HAVE. And that knowledge made Sam smile so hard he could practically burst.

"Hey, I've got a surprise for you," he said excitedly, leading Sammy down the street towards the docks. "Change of plans." He tightened his grip around Sammy affectionately again, and Sammy's composure faltered just a little at the snuggly contact. 

"Check it out!" Sam trumpeted triumphantly as they neared the small boat, close enough now for Sammy to see what was on it.

Sammy glanced up at him in surprise, smiling. "Cool! A wakeboard?" 

"Damn right a wakeboard! Wanna try it? I'm guessing you already know how."

"Actually, no," Sammy said, grinning wider. Sam's eyes were fixed on his face, pleased as he watched his Sammy smile. "I've always wanted to."

"Then let's do it! Hop on!" Sam was reluctant to let go of the kid, but the prospect of spending the day out on the water with him was a good incentive. He started the engine as Sammy put down the bag of food and started excitedly fondling the wakeboard.

The next half hour was a fun one; Sam jokingly dragged Sammy away from the wakeboard to eat some food, enjoying the opportunity to 'manhandle' the kid, and both boys pretended that their blushes were from the sun. Sammy started talking animatedly when Sam inquired about boarding and surf techniques, relaxing more and more as they talked about one of his favorite topics--and Sam was beaming by the end as the boy rambled on adorably. Sammy could practically feel the glow from Sam's face as the bigger guy smiled at him affectionately--and that affection had Sam constantly thinking: SHIT, I really like this guy.

He almost forgot to stop the boat when they got to some good water, and would have kept Sammy to himself if the kid hadn't been so excited to try wakeboarding. With some secret reluctance, he helped Sammy set up the board--then proceeded to watch his heart-fluttering feelings multiply, out of his control, as he watched the kid's athleticism. Sammy made flips and barrel rolls and turns and ducks and long waverides seem SO easy. It was honestly like watching a dance, and Sam was so distracted that he had a hard time navigating the boat. 

Sammy swam back in after a while, absolutely radiating enjoyment and soaking-wet-fun. He hopped back up onto the boat's stern, grinning and panting, chest heaving, and Sam really REALLY wanted to kiss him.

Instead, he jumped into the water abruptly--partly so the cold water would calm his body down, and partly so he could take his turn. Sammy was an easy driver, going slow and steady to give Sam some simple waves--waves that he specifically designed to make Sam feel like he rocked it. And it worked, too; by the time Sam came back in--much sooner than he would have if it was anyone other than his Sammy on the boat--he was feeling like a pro.

They stopped the boat for a while then, and Sammy started rubbing in some sunblock. The sight of THAT, of Sammy's hands skimming and gliding all over his own body, was enough to make Sam deliberately focus on the nautical charts Nathan had left nearby. 

"You want some?" Sammy asked, holding up the bottle a few minutes later. He'd been relieved when Sam hadn't watched him--but maybe also, deep down, a little disappointed. Now that Sophie had made him start thinking about Sam like this, he was having a hard time figuring out his feelings. Did he ACTUALLY like Sam, or just like him because he thought HE liked him first?

Sam groaned comically, rolling his eyes like a disciplined kid, and Sammy laughed. There, he thought, that laughing--it's something big and hard and genuine, and it's the kind of laughing I only do with this guy. 

He let himself glance at the Drake brother, shirtless, but in a different way; when they'd been surfing, it hadn't really been sexual yet. Now, it was most definitely was. Sammy quickly looked away--but not before the sight of Sam's INCREDIBLY well-sculpted arms, pecs, and abs filled his mind. Sam was also a little more mature in his body; he had just a little scruff, or hair, and shadows that made it clear his was a MAN'S chest. Sammy suddenly became aware of how smooth and hairless he was in comparison--then his mind, and the heat in his hips, thought of what those two different bodies would feel like TOGETHER--

"So that girl--" Sam's deceptively-casual sentence interrupted his thoughts "she your girlfriend?"

Sam kept his eyes on the rope he was tying, but something in his posture told Sammy that he was intently listening. He shook his head with a laugh. "No, we've just been friends for a long time."

Sam, the chattiest person Sammy had ever met, was now silent. And he had a strange expression on his face--vulnerable, or delicate or something. Sammy wanted to make it go away. 

"What about you? None of those girls you hang out with are your girlfriend?"

Sam blinked, but his expression still stayed weird and tense. It was careful; not like Sam Drake at all. "No, no. They're, ah," he kind of cough-laughed "they're not exactly my type."

Sammy knew what his next question was supposed to be, but didn't ask it. This suddenly felt like too direct a conversation. 

"I picked a birthday," he said, the topic coming up out of nowhere in his mind. Sam perked up, looking visibly relieved at the lighter subject. "Yeah? Don't leave me hangin'! What day is it?"

Sammy replied with a little pomp and circumstance, smiling. "January 17th." 

Sam hummed, pleased. "Nice."

"When's yours?"

"March 3rd."

Sammy laughed as he echoed the compliment. "Nice."

Sam leaned back, done with the sunblock and the rope. "Well, I don't exactly get credit for making a brilliant choice, since that IS my real birthday."

"Oh. You know your real one?" Sammy's face fell a little, withdrawing, and Sam sat back up, realizing his mistake. "Uh, yeah...see, Nathan and I, our mom died when I was ten. Dad threw us in the orphanage, but I guess it was a little earlier in life for you than for me." He spoke quickly, almost defensively. 

Sammy instantly felt bad for acting weird. "You don't have to feel bad, Sam, it's not a competition for who had the suckiest childhood," he laughed weakly. "Your dad sounds like a jerk." 

Sam laughed bitterly. "He was." 

"And that must've been really hard, trying to keep it together and be a good older brother." Sammy spoke earnestly; he'd already seen how tender Sam was with Nathan, and could easily predict how painfully sweet their bond had always been.

Sam blinked at the emotional tone. "Yeah," he said softly, feeling ten years old again, "it really was." 

His eyes went up to Sammy's. "How old were YOU?"

Sammy shrugged, putting on his shirt casually despite the sad topic. "Zero. I was born, and that's where I was. Right on the doorstep."

"Shit."

"Yeah. But hey," he took a sip of water, avoiding Sam's intense gaze "it's not like I was in juvie or anything, right? Mostly just a depressing boarding school."

Sam laughed. "That's true. You have nuns at yours?"

"Yep. You too?"

Sam jokingly made the sign of the Cross, making Sammy laugh. "You know it."

Sammy glanced at the darkening sky overhead then, and straightened. "Storm coming in. We should head back."

"Aye aye captain."

Sammy laughed again. "And here I thought you'd be making pirate jokes!" 

Sam suddenly looked serious again as he watched Sammy move around the boat, pulling in the wakeboard. "Hey, can I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure," Sammy said lightly--then moved a little slower when he realized that Sam was trying to make the eye contact linger. "What's up?"

Sam gestured towards a bruise around Sammy's wrist. "That from fighting?"

Sammy looked down at the bruise, then back at him. "Yeah, a fight a couple weeks ago. Why?"

Sam stood up straight and sighed, looking like he was gearing up for something, and Sammy was torn again between a serious conversation and a silly dismissal, unsure which one he wanted. "Aright, look." Sam stepped closer, hands gesturing. "I get the whole needing-to-practice-and-stay-sharp thing. I do. But this," he looked at the bruise again, actually sounding upset, "I mean...Sammy, come on. You're too smart for this. A head like THAT" he pointed "does not deserve to be kicked around like THAT." He pointed at the bruise. 

"And I--" he stepped even closer, and his voice got quieter even though they were alone. Sammy barely even blinked as he watched the taller guy approach; Sam Drake actually sounded HESITANT...

"I...it scares me, to see you gettin' beat up like that. Aright? I don't...I don't like it. Can you stop? Please? I mean, I'm honestly surprised that you even DO it at ALL. Please?"

Sammy felt himself getting smaller again; there was some serious affection and honesty in Samuel Drake's hazel eyes, like he was trying to communicate telepathically. And the way he said please...

Sammy sighed and gave a sheepish half-shrug, lips twitching uncomfortably. "Okay, I-I GUESS..." he said faintly.

Sam relaxed. "Thank you." His eyes got assessing again. "Why DO you do it, actually? Because Sammy, I--" he somehow got even CLOSER "I'm really not buying that self-defense preparation is ALL that's makin' you fight like this."

Sammy grudgingly met his eyes, then looked at the deck. "Some-sometimes I get mad," he said. "About what happened...before. And other stuff. And punching...punching something, or somebody, helps." 

"So I'll get you a punching bag," Sam said lightly and plainly. "Aright?"

Sammy's mouth twitched in a smile now, and he weakly scoffed. "Okay--"

Sam ruffled his head, and couldn't help his thumb lingering on Sammy's cheek. His gaze started perusing the kid's face more slowly, and he gulped--Sammy looked up into those hazel eyes--

A burst of thunder sounded, far too close, and they both jumped. "SHIT," Sammy said nervously, looking expertly at the storm, "we gotta get back."

It was a speedy race back to the shore--and the first time, ever, that Sam had really really hated storms.


	23. Chapter 23

For the next few weeks, a small-scale treasure hunt in the neighboring country Mozambique--and some translating jobs--kept things busy for both Sam and Sammy. That didn't stop Sam Drake from popping up, though--he seemed to be everywhere. Showing up when Sammy was having dinner, when he was lounging with friends, coming in from the beach after surfing, hanging out with Sophie and Jameson, bonefishing on the docks...the guy was like a tall, sardonic Boston shadow. 

And Sammy liked it. 

He still felt somewhat nervous, though; Sam was making his affections more and more clear, and TOUCHING him. A LOT. It was always an arm around the shoulders, or around the waist in a subtle side hug when other people weren't really around...but his thumb, oh his thumb--it was always rubbing, fondling and caressing Sammy's arm or shoulder or waistline or abs. A subtle enough move to keep other people from noticing--and Sammy was usually able to keep chatting with them as Sam was doing it, even though he usually smiled a little more nervously or swallowed a little harder. It might have gone unnoticed by most, but to Sammy it was a huge red flag.

For Sam, Sammy's tolerance of the move was a big greenlight. He figured Sammy would have hit him by now if he wanted him to stop doing it, and he knew Sammy WAS capable of hitting him, so being allowed to keep going was something he took as encouragement. And, as he headed towards the center of town three weeks later, Samuel Drake could hardly wait to start getting bolder. 

He heard Sammy talking faintly nearby, and instinctively headed towards it, an already-tipsy Nathan and Chloe gamely following behind. It was a Friday night, and the town was buzzing. Sam felt his step shift a little in surprise as he saw that Sammy was actually standing in front of the gay club. 

Sammy kept his hands in his pockets, politely but a little impatiently trying to talk to the bouncer. It was Rex this time, a different but equally-flirtatious bouncer--and Rex wanted Sammy to come further in.

"Come on, Rex, I just needed to tell Sophie something," Sammy tried again. He was being perfectly nice, but Rex arched an eyebrow and smiled. His head tilt made Sammy sigh and give him a slightly exasperated look. "Oh no no no, Sammy," Rex said seductively, and Sammy looked away. "You wanna get her from in here, you're gonna have to come in here yourSELF, hm? We don't bite until you ask." He winked, and Sammy felt himself blush. 

"C'mon, I don't--"

"Rex, you aren't givin' a hard time to my boy Sammy here, are you?" Sam Drake's knowing voice cut him off, and Sammy, startled, looked up at the man behind him tremulously. Sam chose not to directly think about how cutely and vulnerably Sammy looked up at him as he approached--or how close he'd come to just saying "my Sammy" in his question.

Rex threw up his hands in mock surrender, smiling and making jokes with the newly-arrived trio as Sammy looked on. 

Sammy really WAS surprised; he didn't know that Sam came in here other than for that one meeting ages ago. But apparently he had, enough to be known by name--and the realization of what that meant made him feel a little strange. Nervous, but excited...he kept his gaze mostly on Rex instead to avoid thinking about it. 

He felt Sam Drake's arm go around his shoulder as usual, even though he wasn't looking at him, and steadfastly kept his eyes on Rex. Sam wasn't happy with the lack of attention, though, and ducked his head, giving Sammy a little shake to make him look. "What's the matter, Sammy, this guy pickin' on you?" He said it in such a confident, nurturing way, like he was checking in with a puppy, and that tone made Sammy so nervous that he immediately moved his focus back to Rex.

Venting a little tension through his Rex-related frustration, he explained. "Sophie just wanted me to tell her when her boat was ready--" and he gave Rex a resentful look. 

Sam Drake laughed near his left ear and rustled him again in the hug with his arm. "Oh no worries Sammy, I'll tell her for you aright?"

Sammy gave him a grateful glance, satisfied and eager to leave, and started pulling away. "Thanks." 

"You sure you don't wanna come in?" Sam was already laughing and smiling before he finished his offer. "I know, I know, not your thing." He ruffled Sammy's head and winked before heading in with the others--but for once, Sammy thought he might've kind of wanted to stick around.


	24. Smut Begins!

The moonlight flickered entrancingly over the water's black waves, making Sammy feel calm. He could just sit out here, on these rocks, not having to think about any of it--

"Hey!" 

He jumped and heard Sam Drake laugh as he picked his way across the jetty. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. What're you doin' all by yourself out here on a nice Friday night, huh?"

He sat down, and Sammy kept watching him as wide-eyed as a baby deer. Sam had to laugh; the kid looked as scandalized as if he'd had the audacity to attend a private jetty-event without permission. He still felt as nervous as ever at gauging his Sammy's reactions; but the past few weeks of flirtation had made Samuel Drake frustrated enough to risk it and go for that bait. He made himself more comfortable, pent-up desire making him bluff and brush past the nerves.

"I thought you were clubbing," Sammy said lightly, trying desperately to lower his heart rate. Sam shook his head. "Nope. I mean" he sat upright a little, looking out over the water, "I was, but I don't wanna hang with those guys. I WANNA hang with YOU."

Sam's accent was thick tonight, and Sammy could feel in his own barely-hidden smile how much he liked it. 

Sam bumped him in the side. "Hey, so what was Sophie doing in there tonight anyhow? And what was wrong with her boat?"

Sammy shrugged. "Nothing major, just a spark plug. And she's probably in there with some of her other friends; girls like to party there, since they don't have to worry about anyone drugging their drinks."

"Is that why YOU don't go there?" Sam asked perceptively. "Someone drug your drink?"

Sammy sighed grimly. "Someone tried. It happened a few times."

Sam looked mad. "Jesus. You know who did it?"

"No. And it was a while ago. But that was enough for me."

"No wonder you didn't like it when we dragged you in there and you were getting hit on."

Sammy kept looking ahead. "Yep."

"Sophie and her friends must like being able to dance without being hit on by guys."

"Yeah."

"Whereas you've gotten to do a trade-in and settle for coming out here and just getting hit on by me." Sam said it brightly, but Sammy couldn't help looking caught out. Sam leaned back on his hands, surveying the younger guy, and laughed. "Sammy," he chuckled, "You don't have to look so nervous. You DO know that I like you, RIGHT?"

Sammy nodded a tiny nod, making Sam laugh more. "God, you're adorable," he murmured to himself before continuing at a normal volume. He sat up again to be close. "And you've known for a while now that I've been HITTING on you, RIGHT?"

Sammy nodded again, eyelashes fluttering as he tried to avoid Sam Drake's gaze. But Sam wasn't having it. "Hey." He leaned forward more, and raised some fingers delicately to guide Sammy's chin back to him light as a feather. "I wanna try something. Okay? And you can hit me if you need to. Just don't hit me into the water," he laughed. Sammy weakly half-laughed back. 

Then Sam's lips were on his neck, in one very very slow little kiss, Sam's eyes almost closing a little as he did it but staying fixed on Sammy's face. 

Sammy was completely immobile, eyes filled with tension, and he didn't even breathe. The tiny kiss ended, Sam's head still in the crook of his neck but angled to watch the kid's reaction--and when Sammy kept staying still, Sam's desire for the skin on that throat made him brave enough to kiss it again. If Sammy was going to push him away, he wanted to at least take all he could get. 

They were tender pecks, so tender that Sam was literally conveying all of his fondness and affection through his lips. The kisses became a little bit more languid now, and Sammy felt his own eyelids flicker when he distinctly felt the man's tongue in the next ones. 

Then came the husky, knowing whisper--and Sammy realized he felt more excited when he remembered that the tongue belonged to Sam. 

"Can you do somethin' for me, Sammy?" Sam asked, speaking in that puppy voice again, like he was gentling a foal or coaxing a nervous animal. "Can you" another kiss, his tongue pressing just up against Sammy's side of his neck under his jaw "turn your head just a little to the right? Can you do that for me Sammy?"

Sam Drake knew it was the most important question he was going to ask, a request for a gesture that would open up Sammy's throat more for him--a move that would be a tacit acceptance, a move that would let him go further--

Sammy was staying still, barely breathing, and Sam felt the kid's throat quake under his tentative lips. "Hm?" he whispered, checking in with a little encouraging hum and another kiss. The moonlight felt like it was pounding down on him in combination with Sammy's silence. 

The nervousness suddenly seemed so far away; he'd been scared, but now Sammy couldn't remember why--

He thought of how happy Sam made him--and everything that Sophie had said--and how this guy made him laugh so hard--and his TONGUE--

Sammy moved.

The most infinitesimal of head turns and tilts, and it was a painfully slow millimeter of movement--but Sam immediately grinned. It was a yes, it was a YES--

He slid his tongue up Sammy's throat, in a heated light lick, and Sammy felt himself quake. Sam did it again with an excited smile as he felt his tongue make Sammy's throat shudder--and smiled more when the move made Sammy's head get inadvertently tilted back. That pale, elegant neck now fully exposed, Sam went to town--and the next countless minutes were all Sam's licks and tongue-filled kisses of the kid's throat and neck. Sammy's neck started arching into it a little more and more each time, including when Sam got hornier and gave a little nip--and then Sam saw Sammy's eyes start to close. 

That heavy-lidded look was all the further encouragement Sam needed--and about all he could take--and he responded in kind. Sammy jolted a little when Sam suddenly leaned forward more--but the jolt shifted to another shudder when he felt Sam Drake's arms sweep him up tight against his chest in an embrace. Sam's hands started running across his torso and his back over his tight shirt, up to his shoulders and the nape of his neck and back down to his hips, fingers fondling and clenching desperately like he couldn't get enough of him--and Sam kept his mouth practically glued to Sammy's throat the entire time, devouring it with his tongue greedily and making little growling sounds. Those sounds and the feeling of Sam's fingers rubbing his hips--his tongue flicked in a mischievous tease on Sammy's Adam's apple now, causing a gasp--made Sammy start to grab him back. He wanted to SEE that chest he'd seen on those boat, and FEEL those bicep muscles that were holding him up. 

Sam grinned wider when he heard the kid's gasps and felt Sammy touching him back--less fiercely, but still exploring, the kid's hands feeling his arms and neck and then brushing lightly over his torso, leaving a buzz everywhere they lingered--and suddenly he needed more.

Sammy only had a moment of realizing that Sam was holding the back of his neck with one hand and pulling his head up to his before it became a real kiss. Sam practically slammed his mouth into Sammy's, he was so eager, and Sammy felt himself physically jerk back at the unexpected ferocity of the kiss. He moved back and forth by default, since the force of Sam's guidance was so strong, pushing him further down in pursuit and then sucking in and drawing him right back to be flush against the taller man--and when Sam's tongue slipped its way into his mouth, Sam groaned and Sammy moaned. He felt Sam's hands tighten on his back, moving to circle him even tighter, until they were completely pressed up against each other, Sammy's hands now half-up-in-the-air as if he was being told to keep them there. "Jesus Christ, you taste good," Sam panted huskily in a brief second of breathing; Sammy met his eyes, unsure, and his eyes just look so big and soft and sweet in the moonlight and Sam rushed to kiss him again. His lips were soft, and warm, and wet, and Sammy started to waver more; the tension had been leaving his body a little with each sweep of Sam's lips along his neck, but his tongue THIS way was making Sammy unravel much, much faster. His eyes were still open, but rapidly starting to close in slow blinks. Sam was trying to keep his open, too, trying to savor the experience that he'd been working towards for so long; this was HIS Sammy, and he FINALLY got to have him. But Sammy's sweet lips were so hesitant, and so goddamn DELICIOUS, that he could barely keep his own eyes open. With every touch of their tongues, he felt a groan leave him, and felt a moan vibrate out of Sammy, coming back to mix with his noises and making a rumbly vibration fill both of them.

Sam pressed his tongue further in, and Sammy involuntarily clenched the rocks below him on both sides, splaying his hands out against the stone frantically at the sensation. It was intense, it was too strong--he felt himself gasp, and felt his mouth open far more, falling open completely for Sam to do with whatever he liked--and Sam did, taking advantage of the gaping opportunity to catch Sammy's tongue with his and suck it. Sammy jerked a little at that, not expecting it, and that motion made Sam come out of his haze. "Shit!" he gasped, suddenly pushing himself away to be arms-length from the kid under him. "Shit, Sammy--" he took a moment, breathing heavily, removing one hand from Sammy's shoulder to run it through his hair in an effort to get his head together.

"Holy SHIT," he gasped out after what felt like a full minute of pant-filled silence. He started laughing a little. "Look at me, I'm like an old geezer. Holy SHIT, Sammy." His eyes met Sammy's, who was still pressed tight in his arms and feeling and looking smaller and smaller and more tremulous by the minute. Seeing that nervousness coming back, Sam held him up flush against his body again abruptly. "I'm sorry, Sammy, that was just supposed to be a first kiss, I- SHIT, I can't believe I came on that strong--" he ran the hand through his hair again, laughing, and relaxed more when he saw a little mirth coming and making its way into Sammy's eyes too. "You" he put both hands on Sammy's face, and Sammy held his breath, looking up at him without blinking "taste. REALLY. good." The amount of affection, lust, humor, and genuine little-boy-level excitement in Sam's eyes was enough for Sammy to start mirroring all of that too. He still felt like his entire body was quaking. Maybe it was. It was DEFINITELY buzzing.

"You all right?" Sam asked, shifting to concern when he felt Sammy shaking. He kept his hands on Sammy's face, looking into his eyes even more searchingly now. It was like Sam already knew him well enough to know that he always tried to hide when he was upset.

The hands on his cheeks felt good, and Sammy nodded with a little smile that got bigger when he felt the hands move up and down, rough calluses rubbing on his cheeks and making him let out a little laugh. Sam giggled giddily and grinned at that, the girliness vanishing after a moment when he straightened and visibly shook himself. "See, I wanna kiss you right now again Sammy," he said teasingly, laughing at himself, still a little out of breath "but if I do that I'm not gonna stop--holy SHIT--" he turned away in frustration for a second, groaning, looking so much like a dog being kept away from a treat that Sammy barely held in a laugh. "Shit, I gotta get outta here," Sam muttered, seeing the smirk twisting on Sammy's mouth and deciding it was too much to take. "No. No, I wanna take my time with you, that's always what I've wanted to do. Nope. I'm leaving, and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He spoke briskly, clearly giving himself orders, but lingered on the rocks until Sammy--who was feeling thoroughly Sam-swept and blissfully exposed, like he'd just left a roller coaster, and feeling his abs contract with anticipation at the mention of Sam 'taking his time' later--nodded. Sam lingered one more second. "You sure you're all right?"

Sammy nodded again, letting the smile he was feeling actually show, and Sam's grin widened. He stood up, but hesitated again. "GoddddAMMit, this is hard to do." He paced in place, hands gesturing in frustration as he looked down at the vulnerable and big-eyed kid looking up at him. "Shit, NO, NOPE, NOPE, I'll see you tomorrow Sammy. Ho-o-o-ly shit," he added as he left, shaking his head in giddy disbelief as he went and glancing back at Sammy along the way. Who would have thought the kid was going to taste that fucking good?


	25. Chapter 25

Sammy fumbled with the pens and weathered books, watching them fall from between his fingers and clatter off the table to the ground. He blinked rapidly, swallowing hard and hurriedly recollecting them. He'd been trying to reorganize his so-called desk...

Actually, he'd been trying to reorganize his entire place since last night. Being...kissed, THE kiss--or, kissES--Sammy felt himself blushing and tensing even though he was alone. It was really messing with him, this-this...thing--

This SAM--

He ran a hand over his head, the cotton of his shirt feeling weird on his skin. But he didn't want to be shirtless right now, not if--if Sam came BY...

The euphoria from the sexiest, most exhilarating experience of Sammy's life had vanished soon after Sam had walked away. He'd been really, unquestioningly happy for a full five minutes--really, he had--sitting on the jetty alone feeling his heart pound, looking out at the same moon-stained water from a few minutes before. How could the water and the moonlight look the same, he'd thought blissfully, when he'd been over here in front of it being kissed and aroused like never before? Shouldn't that be able to affect the world around him somehow, making the water swirl and rise like the heat he'd felt in his hips? 

And then, a sound rang out from behind him. It was nothing much, really; just some happy hollers from drunk people in town--but it was a sudden reminder of everyone else in the world. Sammy knew it was perfectly fine to be gay, or bisexual, or anything he wanted--it wasn't Sam's gender that he felt freaking him out. No, it was the prospect of other people's looks; other people's pressure. He remembered how uncomfortable he felt when Sam touched him in front of other people, and how nervous and defensive he'd started feeling when Sophie and Jameson had teased him...

Other people were going to get involved, and he just--he just couldn't...Sammy had looked out at the water again, feeling himself quail in the face of the prospective friends' comments and looks. Maybe it was pride, or self-consciousness...either, or both, made Sammy desperately wish that it could've just stayed Sam and him, here on the rocks forever with nobody else on his mind. 

He didn't WANT to be a public couple. He didn't WANT his...thing...with Sam to be observed. If only it could just be them, it--

Sammy knocked over more books again now, the sunshine outside completely ignoring his on-edge mood. Scrabbling for the books in the dirt, Sammy felt like he could barely even get his hands on them. He was practically dizzy from the stress of it all--and when he felt his breathing increase in panic, and started seeing stars, he leaned over his desk and put his head in his hands, desperately trying to regain some control. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sammy wasn't the only one struggling for control. Sam was two miles away, pacing in an otherwise-cheery little cabana-style cafe. Nathan and Sullivan were enjoying--or at least TRYING to enjoy--what Nathan called some "delightful" cafe de leches, but Sam's visible tension was making everyone in the cafe nervous. That didn't surprise Nathan; Sam had a knack for making his moods affect everyone around him--but he WAS surprised by why. 

"Sam, what the hell is wrong with you??" he asked, confusion clear in his voice as his blue eyes blinked at his older brother over the dainty cappucino cup. "If you KISSED him--"

Sam shushed him violently, looking around, but Nathan kept talking. "If you KISSED him," he said only a little lower in volume, "why the hell are you standing HERE right now?"

Sully tilted his cigar in agreement, looking equally confused and concerned. "Nate's right, Sam," he said, ignoring Sam's groan. "If you like someone--ESPECIALLY someone as nervous and inexperienced as Sammy--you don't leave them alone for a second after the first..." Sully searched for a word awkwardly. "...encounter."

Sam was too tense to do anything but ignore the somewhat intimate nature of this conversation. "But that's exactly WHY I'm not there!" he hissed, his words practically exploding out from tension. Other patrons glanced over again uncomfortably. "Sammy SCARES EASY, and I don't--I don't want to just pop up and make him feel like I'm gonna suddenly be there next to him stalking him all the time--"

"Sam, you already DO that," Nate said patiently. Sam cut his eyes at his brother. "No, I don't." 

"You're practically his shadow, Sam," Nate laughed, "and I don't really think Sammy minds."

"But none of THAT was after--after we'd" Sam did turn a little red now, then caustically snapped "oh, forget it" and reached for Sully's cigar.

Sully swatted his hand away. "Hey! Hands off! Okay, kid," he said, and Nate knew he was talking to him. Sam would never put up with being called that. Sully turned towards him, as if Sam wasn't there "now your brother's romantic entanglement is posing a risk for my cigar."

Nate knew what that meant, and sighed. "I know, I know. Sam," he said, turning to his surly sibling "I get what you're saying. I do. You're trying to play it safe and avoid coming on too strong. You don't want him to think you're suddenly official boyfriends now."

"Well...yeah," Sam said quietly, sounding more like a little boy now. His voice always got a little higher when he was admitting to anything emotional. Nate held in his smile at it. 

"But Sam," he said slowly, "in Sammy's case, you actually NEED to be there more. He's probably freaking out right now BECAUSE you're not there."

Sam's face fell a little. "Y'think?"

Nate nodded earnestly. "Yeah, you need to be there holding his hand through it--"

Sam was off sprinting down the road before Nate even finished his sentence. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sammy didn't know how long it took for his pulse to return to normal, but he finally straightened up and started anxiously re-tidying his desk and--

And turned to see Sam Drake standing in the doorway. 

Sam's heart jolted in his chest at seeing the kid's obvious nervousness. SHIT, he really SHOULD have come earlier--

He quickly smiled a small, questioning smile, realizing in the back of his mind that part of that smile was genuine. He really WAS just happy to see Sammy again. He'd barely slept, actually, thinking about those lips and those velvety-soft brown eyes--

"Hey," he said mildly. Sammy didn't necessarily look HAPPY to see him, but after the tiniest of pauses, the kid did manage to get out an equally neutral "Hey" in return.

Sam glanced at the desk, and Sammy felt his heart flutter. He knew part of it was happiness about seeing Samuel Drake--but the bigger part right now was most definitely anxiety. God, was he here to regret last night, was he going to tell the whole town, was he here to make fun of him--

"You...tidying?" Sam asked, and, despite his nervousness, Sammy felt a streak of warmth run through his chest at hearing that charming Boston accent. 

"I...yeah," he responded faintly, looking around sheepishly at his home. 

Sam's smile became a smirk, but his eyes became somehow tender and more knowing. "Not exactly much to tidy here."

Somewhere in his mind, Sammy did know how ridiculous it was to be 'tidying' a minuscule shack, and he let out a tiny breath of a laugh. "Yeah, I know."

Sam considered him for a moment, his hazel eyes softening even more as he observed the Sammy in front of him. HIS Sammy, he wanted to say...and for a second, visions of kissing his Sammy and laying that boy right down on that desk and licking his way up the boy's abs took over. Sam drew in a breath and felt his abs tighten, but reined it in. Judging by the tension radiating off of Sammy's shoulders, now was really NOT the time. 

"Y'know," Sam said casually, stepping further into the shack and politely ignoring that Sammy tensed even more "my mother used to tidy a lot when she was stressed, too."

Sammy knew he shouldn't even bother trying to pretend he wasn't a nervous wreck. Besides, he didn't think he could pretend to be unflappable and NOT upset right now, even if he'd tried. So he settled for uneasy silence. 

Sam felt those long-lashed brown eyes on him as he stepped through the shack, but avoided making eye contact. He tried to remember what Nathan had said. 'Hold his hand through it'...

He turned, deliberately slowly, but Sammy still seemed tense despite the gentle movements. CHRIST, Sam wished he could think of a way to make Sammy laugh and relax right now. 

He couldn't think of any--so Samuel Drake dove into the emotional realm headfirst instead. 

"Sammy." He stepped closer, very softly putting a hand up to Sammy's face. Sammy watched him like a hawk, eyes huge as he wondered what Sam was going to do...was he going to cup his face, or grab him for another kiss--

One finger gingerly poked Sammy's forehead, and Sam's hazel eyes stared into Sammy's brown ones. "What's goin' on in there, hm?"

Sam sounded more sad and earnest than Sammy had ever heard him sound before--and something about that tone made him WANT to speak, to explain...but he just couldn't. He didn't know how. 

Sam seemed to realize that, and suddenly stepped closer, NOW cupping Sammy's face with both of his rough-palmed hands. "Okay, Sammy," he said, speaking as briskly as if he were going over a heist's game plan. "Three options. Okay?"

Sammy nodded faintly, face moving with his hands just like it had last night. Sam smiled a little at the sight, but kept his voice steady. "Blink once if you want me to completely back off and you don't wanna see me again." It hurt Sam's heart to even say that, and he swallowed hard before quickly continuing. "Twice if you're okay with me kissing you more like last night, and if you're okay with us being together in that way. Casual, if you want."

Sammy's eyes were riveted on Sam's face. "Three times," Sam said carefully, "if you want more. If you want me to be your boyfriend."

Sammy knew which choice he wanted...and hoped to God it wouldn't be an offense. 

Sam's heart lurched in his chest now at seeing the hesitation in his Sammy's eyes, and he had to force himself to say his next sentence despite dreading option one. "You won't hurt my feelings, Sammy," he lied. "You can pick any, okay? Seriously. Sammy" he pulled their faces closer "I want you to be HAPPY. Don't pick somethin' you don't want."

The next moment was one of complete silence, and Sam swore he could HEAR Sammy's eyelashes touching as he blinked. Once...

Sam couldn't help his breath catching in panic. 

Twice...

Sam felt like he could breath again.

Sammy stopped blinking and looked at him tremulously. It took a moment for Sam to remember which one he'd said for two blinks--then he felt himself smile.

And Sammy, stepping a little closer into his arms, smiled too.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Kid (Sexy Rafe Porn)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834501) by [Sharonfofaron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharonfofaron/pseuds/Sharonfofaron)




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